We all think we are strong, and are ready for anything that comes our way. Ever wondered why that thought comes? And when you actually face the situation, you end up losing the war?
It’s amazing how just everyday you tell yourself today will be better, today will be different but then all you face is disappointment, negativity and feeling of not living up to the thoughts of a better day. What makes things worse are the people that you always had faith in decide not to show up for you when you need them the most. Maybe we don’t express it enough, maybe we don’t ask openly for help, but then is it too much for people like us to expect people who get us just by looking at us?.
Maybe best friends are only meant for people who paint a happy picture, who seem to accept the fact that they are wrong, whom seem to know where to be in life. I guess that’s why when you see these bonds, you feel more alone, you feel as if you will never have someone who gets you.
But then, the world has a cliche answer to that too – your parents. But then what about people like us who were never allowed to bloom by your parents, who were always made to feel claustrophobic by just the mere presence. And please don’t tell us that we don’t love them – we will give our lives for them as much as the ones who tell that their mum and dad are their best friends. Maybe someday you will realise that each one of us was brought up differently and the very reason we stay disconnected from our parents is because we don’t want them to take the pressure of us not being okay. Why? Because they will just not understand what goes through this head because they perceive life in a very different way.
What’s the solution to all this? Give up on life? Cut yourself from the world? Stop living? Maybe yes, maybe not – I also don’t know – yes people like us exist. We don’t know what to do with oursleves this very next minute. All we know is that we have to survive, and we will. We will cry, we will wake up tomorrow, we will accept the sorrow and hope things get better.
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