It is amazing to be present and not being there, not in a good way of course. Most of the times when we find ourselves helpless we wait for the suffering to be over, we learn to endure, to submit to what we can't change, we spend our days counting minutes, our weeks counting days, our years counting months. What is terrifying are the consequences not of the suffering or misery itself but of the endurance and the submission in a way we learn to be okay with what isn't right, what should have been right, what is ugly and harmful for everyone. We slowly and unconsciously become numb after a while. It seems like we can live with it and everyone else should be able to as well. Endurance, putting one foot after the other, hanging in there, whatever you may call it no one deserves to live like that, we all deserve to live without fear, live out loud, live the life we want. Yet most of us spend our days, lives even, waiting, enduring, hoping. We shouldn't have to.
So Numb, So Sensitive
As I lie down staring into the emptiness of the room I inhabit and the life I lead, wondering how things change, and people and most importantly how you change without even realizing it until you are too far ahead of who, you used to be. It is actually funny how you become a stranger to yourself more like to your former self, how you become so apathetic that nothing matters anymore. And then there are days or should I say people, who make you so sensitive, so fragile, so vulnerable that every pore in your body, every emotion your soul possesses and every wound of your heart comes back to life to remind you of what used to be and what never will be. I just hate such days,or should I say such people? Perhaps I loved them way too much, once.
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