Everything that kills you makes you stronger!
Do the above stated words are devoid of any deception? Do you think the words are realistic? Well, I guess No!
The sun is rising, the birds chirping, the trees waving, flowers blooming, people setting ahead their daily chores. Oh! How perfect everything seems through your eyes. A beautiful morning. A beautiful start.
You look around the people. Some are happy, some are contended, some are confused, some are grief stricken, some seems to be numb. A variable state of behavior and expression.
Amongst the diverse faces, there are people, like me, who are equipped with the feeling of feeling nothing.
You know everything is smooth, you know there is nothing to be sad about, generally. But why is the constant look. Why being complete still makes you feel incomplete. what are the wandering eyes searching for. Why do the lips seems like they have a story to speak out but they are paused, your inner self wanting to shoot and cry out words unsaid. And the elements made for that very purpose, like the heart, the soul have been removed and you’re unable to act. And this detachment has left open bleeding cuts, wounds that rend, scratch, itch, bleed and a situation of panicked and near death follows. You could feel the necrosis of cells. You feel like you’re turning into a walking dead.
And not everything that kills you make you stronger. In all the pettiness, there exists pain, there exists anguish, there exists grief. And you feel like suffering from anhedonia.
The bits of heart rises the gut reaction that is more sharper, deeper and acute. You become like a bowl filled of pain, the stilled pain that vaporises as long as one does not move. The glistening of an empty heart. A lonely bareness, a bleakness.
Every heart has gone through a heartache that converted their life into a deserted state, their heart now replaced by mere a circulatory organ.
You never realize the importance of something until it’s really gone beyond your reach. A person struggling between life and death understands the importance of life only when he is on the verge of losing it. A wilting tree, about to lose its existence, hopes for water and nourishment, hopes for a life, hopes for a day when he’ll be again be covered with greenery.
Similarly, the broken heart desires to beat again the name of his beloved. The deserted soul hopes for feeling alive. But the emotions slaved on the hands of sufferings fails to show up. And you’re tired of trying, trying to an extent that further trying seems worthless. Actually you need to end things, sooner or later. Because a system that lacks normality, originality, neutrality can never stay for long. Everybody dreams of a common life. And we as human beings can not afford to excite our nerves for long. And that’s what really happens, the useless efforts you once made converts you into an effortless victim of circumstances.
At a spare of time, your life becomes a crock of shit which does not offers you a happily-ever-after. And the most discriminating irony lies in the fact that none of those disastrous moment of life could be undone. And the act that had undone everything could not itself be undone.
And may be that’s what life is. When all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.