One Never Can Master Their Griefs
It is not strange how literature stings a chord deep inside your heart which you thought had ceased to exist.
It is not strange when somebody else's words, written in a different time and context reverberate to you as if written by you, for you!
There are wounds, unfortunately though, but inflicted upon people the same beyond time and space. What I felt has been felt by others eons ago and would yet be felt more by more eons in future.
For some time now I believed that I had mastered those emotions of mine. Those which rose within my like a serpent wreathing my insides and leaving me whimpering in pain. I, believed that I had successfully wrapped those layers upon layers of grief and sorrows into the abyssal recesses in my mind. A gap where even the most vulnerable of my dreams won't be able to lay hands upon. But then it requires a whiff of air for the castle to crumble down. It takes few words to unlock those miseries, locked deep into you subconscious mind. To bring them out when you least expect them. To catch you off gaurd and remind you that you never can master you griefs. They would always have the upper hand, they can make your insides squirm your head explode. No amount of restrain can help you hold back your tears. They would flow only to wipe out those painful memories for a transient moment. They would flow only to make you delusional of your domination over your griefs because you never can master your griefs.
They catch hold of you when you don't want them and evade you when you want to draw strength from them. They deceive you but never leave you. They creep out with some random words written by some stranger, in a time unbeknownst to you because you never can master your griefs.
It is not strange when somebody else's words, written in a different time and context reverberate to you as if written by you, for you!
There are wounds, unfortunately though, but inflicted upon people the same beyond time and space. What I felt has been felt by others eons ago and would yet be felt more by more eons in future.
For some time now I believed that I had mastered those emotions of mine. Those which rose within my like a serpent wreathing my insides and leaving me whimpering in pain. I, believed that I had successfully wrapped those layers upon layers of grief and sorrows into the abyssal recesses in my mind. A gap where even the most vulnerable of my dreams won't be able to lay hands upon. But then it requires a whiff of air for the castle to crumble down. It takes few words to unlock those miseries, locked deep into you subconscious mind. To bring them out when you least expect them. To catch you off gaurd and remind you that you never can master you griefs. They would always have the upper hand, they can make your insides squirm your head explode. No amount of restrain can help you hold back your tears. They would flow only to wipe out those painful memories for a transient moment. They would flow only to make you delusional of your domination over your griefs because you never can master your griefs.
They catch hold of you when you don't want them and evade you when you want to draw strength from them. They deceive you but never leave you. They creep out with some random words written by some stranger, in a time unbeknownst to you because you never can master your griefs.
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