I get angry with myself when I fall weak. I'm the strong one. The elder one. I can't be weak. I am the one taking care of the family. Of everyone's emotions. Trying my best to be there for those who need me. Running a few errands. It's difficult. hard and downright tedious to keep up with this world. It's speeding and no one is going to stop it, so I can take a breather. Then it happens. The inevitable. Just while sitting on the bus, the tears flow freely, like in sudden abject resignation of any human concern. Like flashing them my medals and as they wonder what's wrong with her, I look away. Not wiping these flashes of literal agony that the more I feel them trickle the more cleansed I feel. When you miss someone you tell them. You tell them coz they serve a purpose in your life and now they aren't there, a physical presence is always important, but then memories we are left wit just memories right. beautiful ones, we try to refresh them, when we think about them everyday. And when we do miss them, the memories play like Reality TV, so real, yet untouchable. Locked away in our departments. As we yearn, we twist we turn, we heave with pain, but then we subside, and then go into dreamless sleep. Exhausted with a trial that we set upon ourselves, and took care of it even before it began.
Such is life, and her quaint pleasures.
