Irrational Irony, Inexplicable Indifference & Inevitable Idiosyncrasy : Ingredients of Life

You’re in a crowd, but you’re alone. You explain, but that just makes things harder to understand than they initially were. You speak, but you can’t be heard, or you’re not listened to. When you’re silent, everyone hears. When you’re down, no one wants to help you up, but when you’re up, everyone wants to drag you down. They tell you to hold on when you’re trying to let go. They tell you to let go when you’re trying to hold on. You’re dying while you’re living, and living while you’re dying.

Life is pervaded by the essence of irrational irony.

You talk to a person present in the flesh and you’re ignored. You talk to your “wall” on a social media platform and people who aren’t well-enough acquainted with you connect the dots of your untold emotions. You are forced to wear a smile that conceals the scars lest someone should see them and question your sanity or gloat over your probable insanity. You are forced to line your eyes with kohl to camouflage the deed all the midnight tears have done, because people seem to notice, but won’t seem to understand. You love someone, but your love to them is no more than the earth they trample underfoot.

Life is garnished with the oil of inexplicable indifference.

You are told by people that you will be understood, but ultimately, you end up being either not understood or misunderstood. You are told to stay put by someone who persistently tries to push you off balance when you’re like a feather amidst an air current. You choose your path and traverse it only to realize you’ve been treading the wrong way all this while. You gain something only to realize it won’t last forever, but you lose something and realize that it will be lost forever, like a drop in a boundless ocean.

Life is sprinkled with a dash of inevitable idiosyncrasy.

But life has to go on through it all, doesn’t it? And it does…

You know you’re not losing life’s battle, you’re just fighting your way up from the bottom.

Life is crowned with the indomitable spirit that surmounts the issues so insurmountable.

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Battlefield of Emotions

Contrary emotions are like sworn nemeses in the medieval epoch. They find a place that can cater well to their need of habitation and they proceed to pretentiously coexist peacefully and convincingly, but as time goes by, their true intent to overtake the kingdom and overthrow the ruler is made manifest, and that is precisely how the war of emotions kicks off.

Hatred enters the battlefield armed with his weapon of poison, hurt with his arrows, indifference with his shield and insult with its club. Only love enters unarmed, sans even a single means of defense.

In course of combat, love is wounded mortally- struck, impaled and blown, temporarily weakened and incapacitated, but not enough to give up the fight. It allows itself to be victimized until the assailing foes themselves grow weary of the fight and retreat in defeat.

Love, though wounded, triumphs in sweet victory and basks in humble glory. It restores and rejuvenates itself and the Kingdom of the Heart that was subject to much attrition.

Love neither is a fighter nor a killer, but a conqueror. It is its own weapon- a weapon that eliminates what breaks and restores what has been broken.

A Drop of Strength in an Ocean of Weakness

I left myself wide open again and now I’m in a million pieces, but does that make a difference? After all, I wasn’t even whole to start with. Sometimes I feel I keep my heart in all the wrong places.

I spill all my contents to people and finally I’m left empty. I then run back to them to have them fill me again. I am then filled, but only with hurt the weight of lead.

In the face of all these emotional calamities, I have indeed lamented, cried and complained, but I have also learned that love and strength are tested and refined in situations as these.

I could never boast of strength if I hadn’t any weaknesses to overcome and I could not fortify my love had I not met with insult and coldness from the people that I held dear.

It does take something to bare your heart and mind to someone, but I did that anyway. Sometimes I was consoled, sometimes I returned more out of shape than I was to begin with.

Those moments I might have cursed, but to be honest, I was blessed with them, for in my weaknesses, I discovered my strengths, so I wouldn’t trade those happenings for anything under the sun. All those moments brought me closer to myself and to the people I cherish.

It’s like being the sole survivor of a tempest- battered and shattered, but still a survivor with a story worth telling.

If I didn’t know I was weak, I could never have known I was strong.

So, to everyone who has ever broken me, thank you. You taught me to repair myself and to give my love and my feelings a voice. So, feel satisfied for every stone you’ve hurled at me. Not one went in vain.

Counting My Blessings

When I grumble about…..

  • The food under the roof of my mouth not being as delectable as I expected it to be, I think of someone rummaging through trash cans to find a few morsels.
  • Someone hurling a random insult at me, I think of a person who is insulted physically and mentally and who can give no vent to her feelings.
  • The house I live in being like a warzone, I remind myself of the myriad soldiers braving the odds and dying in the literal warzone and the helpless victims of a real war.
  • Academic subjects being unfeasible for me to fathom, I regard someone for whom the prospect of having an education will remain the figment of a dream.
  • Not being able to withstand a mild bout of sickness, I feel grateful that I’m not at death’s mercy.
  • The people in my life, I consider people who are jettisoned- who have no one and nothing to love or to live for.
  • Friends whose antics I can’t digest, I think of people who long for companionship or of individuals who have been backstabbed by their faux amis.
  • Exams being too complicated to study for, I remember that there are people who are still illiterate out there who would grab the opportunity to see the insides of a school and hold a pen in their hands.
  • Traffic being too congested on a street, I number myself amongst the fortunate lot who haven’t been hit by a truck.
  • Noisy people and situations, I think much later that there are people who don’t hear the music and the cacophony of the world because sadly, they can’t.
  • Stagnant water on the road getting my jeans or my footwear all mucky, I bring to mind that there are human beings who have no choice but to settle on that water for drinking.
  • The smell of garbage bothering my nostrils, I remind myself that there are scavengers gathering it without doing so much as shielding their noses.
  • The weather being frigid or torrid, I count myself lucky to be sheltered from the sun and the rain unlike the unknown many who have to scurry helter-skelter in the hopes of finding shelter.
  • Not being appreciated enough, I recall that there are people being degraded, depreciated, derided and defiled.
  • Not being beautiful enough, I thank the heavens that my senses and my physical form are still intact- free from disfiguration and indelible scars.

I could enumerate many more examples like these, but from the aforementioned matter of this article, maybe I have given myself and my readers a little gist (or a big one) on what it means to count one’s blessings, because often enough, one tends to lament one’s shortcomings while pushing past the point of oblivion the multifarious bounties that have generously been bestowed on us.