Thursday, August 04, 2011

Spades

I wanted to write a blog, but the thoughts I put down into words didn't seem properly expressed, and even then, to have them read by all and sundry didn't seem so appropriate either. Nevertheless, the words are I, as the thoughts are of I. Subsequently, whosoever "I " is (am) should not go unabashed at the exposure of emotions, or should they? But here they are wandering indecidedly without a proper place to rest. As much as the rest of the being that is I.



How does one put sorrow into words, or express suffering, without it being a form of selfishsness? One holds back the surging torrent of emotion that remains at the very brink, with you fighting with everything within to prevent it from crashing out. How does one cope with the idea that this suffering is only a phase that will surely pass, as is expected of those who stay warily on the outskirts of personal boundaries hoping that this safety alert will soon pass. How does one balance the idea that happiness is so easily attained when one realizes that it is only then that you are not left alone, and when sadness springs forth, so recede those you had around you, tiptoing away with that uncomfortable undertone of helplessness. This is the underpining of much of society; do we grasp strongly to the emotions that pull us under and devote ourselves to the solitude this incorporates, or do we continuously paint ourselves with comical red smiles of clowns upon the sadness that lies below so as to ensure that if not ourselves perhaps others would be convinced that although perhaps an act, at least it is an attempt, and we can all laugh in relief, at least to laugh together.



And when dealt a blow we have only the option of having to deal with it in return. How long does one continue to deal with suffering that prolongs and perpetuates in patterns of errant chaos and order. How does one explain oneself without seeking to be understood when there exists none who wishes to share it in all that it is. And the self; on one hand wishing to slap oneself for the uprising of sadness and on the other wanting to do the same for the false feeling of surpressing it. Is the solution in simply not feeling? And the frustration at not being understood and wishing to be- yet also at the unfairness of it, for how does another accomplish this for you, another being, when you yourself cannot do this for yourself?



To smile, not for oneself but for those one cares for without regard for the self and the continuous cycle of loss and life, and just accept it that you have just got to keep giving without ever expecting anything in return, and when you get hurt you bear the pain yourself and just keep going.                    

1 comment:

  1. Exactly... How?

    All that's said is a lot easier said than done . When you're in the outskirts, far from solitude, it's so easy to tell others that it's only a phase that'll surely pass, but when you're living through that phase it seems as though it'll never end.

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