Art work by Cara Thayer & Louie van Patten
Endurance is said to be a blessing, hardships are said to be for those who posses strength, obstacles are said to be set for those who can put a ramp on it, struggle is said to be for those who are willing to take the risk. But is breaking solely for those who can bear it through? It’s true, they do survive the battle, but only after being fiercely injured. If so, doesn’t that reprieve their ability of ever living in bliss scar-less?
At certain times, I found these sayings nonsensical, ‘If they’re already strong enough why would life want to put that to test?’ I thought. Unfortunately as I grew older, I came to realize that I was the one talking gibberish. Life wants to test the strong, life has struggle fated for who are able to strive. I condemn the justice of life, why? Simply because those who are are strong weren’t born strong. They had to contort and change over and over again in order to make their encounter with obstacles preliminary. However they neither want to endure pain nor struggle.
So dear life, my beloved enigma, why not strike those who have done absolutely no effort in pulling through you? Why not punish them with your hardships and teach them your lessons? Why are the strong required to earn their happiness while it’s served on a silver patter for others?
You cannot keep on throwing your bombs in one direction, You can’t keep on pushing the strong to their breaking points.
Artwork by Ana Teresa Barboza
For a moment, I am asunder, shattered and stuck in interludes from reality. Every time, every single time it happens, I loath myself for being so vulnerable, so frail and so .. Nude. I opened up again? Ignoramus to the virile cruelty again? Me who mocks the alleged putative sincerity of man?!
Frankly, I feel obliged to tell you how it feels, sleeping on a tear bathed pillow with the inconsistent beat of a mangled heart, GUILT-FREE. I may not be well now, neither mentally nor physically. But my conscience remains an unspekeled glass, contrary to yours. I have never anchored a heart. My pillow is far more comfortable than yours. My heart bleeds tears through my eyes but your mind, it bleeds suppressed culpability through your conscience. Unfortunately for you, your conscience is ventless. Guilt can only ooze out of your pores, consequently, you reek shame.
It’s astonishing you are still capable of looking me in the eyes as you step on the same floor my feet walked on. My very own feet that carried me up as I headed to the drawer of tear jars and wiped blotches of your poison from my soul. The extent of your cruelty does not cease to amaze me. In fact, it’s impressive and astounding how you find sitting on the wreck of my broken pieces.. Okay. How ever, you’re still transparent to me. I’m not oblivious of your fearful eyes every time you turn your gaze away. I see fear when your feet involuntarily change course only by glimpse of my approaching shadow. Fear of what you ask? Fear of being unforgiven, of having my wounds haunting your dreams. Fear of my unaveging soul awakening a tremendously vindictive God.
That mask of valour you wear, it’s just a matter of time it crumbles down..I know my silence is a curse to you..