Through the 20’s

I have reminded myself time and again that all of life’s tragedies are but nature’s way of asserting its inordinate dominance. All through the years, I have traced my ribcage to feel where my heart could pop out from if at any given I felt too much. There was once a time when I loved so deeply that I wanted badly to shape my life from it and when I lost it, I hurt so badly that and insulated myself. Life isn’t easy when we try to grow up. Even when we feel the need to be self-sufficient and when we try to fall out and cover the world, we become amazed by such blurry and unbearable tragedy.

But then again, I have recalled proper mantras that I’d use to comfort any person haunted by love and in a storm in the throes and truncheons of life and chance. Anyone may attest that it is okay to be distressed, complain and overwhelmed, even act saturnine. Yet in the fondest of reasons, it is never enough to wake up each day and think that all these will somehow go away. When one refuses to chant with the solipsists, the struggle becomes outstanding and tumbles out like a fucking meteor. Only that it becomes painfully embalming as if scars are souvenirs of life.

Each and every day, I find myself disturbed at such realities that I am unable to go from being myself to the person I need to be. I see my life rolling away, fracturing my bones when colliding with time. I see my dreams melt away; turning into desert sand each time I try to make a step. I suffer torment from all the tribulations that I must endure to stay alive. Yet I have the knowledge that I must be positive enough to learn from all these.


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