The Good Ol’ Straggler

I have come across many stragglers, portraying their life to be seamlessly perfect. I will not deny my efforts to be this way- okay, at all times. Exhilarating, it is mandatory to be. But, what is a human being without deep, ingrained suffering and pain?

Do not underestimate the power of the tears you have shed, my friend. There are no words one can allocate to the multiple times you must have died in your bed. There is no one else, other than you, who will understand the depth of your hurt. Other than your God, perhaps, no one felt the angst in your breathing and tremble in your gait.

 There is no going back from all you have endured, my friend. There is no professional in this universe who will be able to piece together your shattered bones- nothing is visible to their eyes. As long as your skin is intact, you are in minimum need of compassion. If you walk, today, hoping to recollect your missing pieces, I assure you they have been swept off this Earth. Being you, I would acknowledge the mercy he had in allowing you to exist, after so much torture.

Look into the eyes of those around you and you will realize that you are not the same anymore. You now understand the immeasurable value of an old scar on his face, the cleanliness behind her unwashed hair, and the inaccessible place she disappears to. Allow yourself, my friend, to die a little more every morning in the shower for only repetitive deaths will allow you to take birth again, stronger. Again and again, you will dissociate and return, only to know more than you did yesterday.

 Allow yourself to live, for what is the meaning of life without this heartache? For, what is the meaning of life without this experiential knowledge?