Life has this unfair way of making it difficult to enjoy for some people. It's much too short for the number of sorrows that are unnecessarily and easily packed into its duration. It has this way of working its way out, no matter what, just the way it wants to and never giving up the upper hand. It goes on, yes, but it lingers in the dirtiest places that fester into painful wounds that infect not the body, but the soul. No remedy can fill the gaps that result.
I can't act like I understand for not even a second, but I am in pain for the people in my life who live with not this unforgiving disease. I feel sorry. I feel sorry for the people with convincing enough smiles to mask the wrinkles that run like rivers over once youthful skin. I feel sorry that they can't wear their sorrow on their sleeves because, instead, it just makes a home inside, thriving on the anxiety created by unprecedented monsters.
More than that, though, I feel guilty. I feel guilty about my own happiness when I stand by and watch as some of my closest friends are eaten alive by the depression that lives within them. They seek me out for solace, for refuge, but I can offer them no help other than an, "I'm here for you." But what good will that do them in the end when I am completely in the dark? I really know nothing of sorrow, only of slight breaches in complacency.
And for this, I am ashamed. Not because I have been blessed enough to have coasted so long in my life with very few hiccups in the grand scheme of things, but because I have the nerve to complain about the smallest daily inconveniences and play them off as heavy burdens that drag behind me for just a couple of days. For this, I am ashamed.I talk about wanting to be a light in others' lives while on the flip side I think I am in pain for having too many tasks to juggle in a day. While, yes, these are things that are worth taking care of and important not to ignore, it's easy to forget that these problems will not linger.They are temporary. They matter, but be slow to excite, for life goes on comfortably even still.
I wish not to step on any toes, but I wish for a moment to step in the shoes of my friends who are suffering, to understand the heaviness of the pain that I can see is a major part of their lives. All I can do is thank them for their strength and for lifting the shade from my eyes and to have them remember that the struggles that are presented in our lives are not done so with the purpose of breaking us down but for carving us into the people we are meant to be.
