As I wrote this, a bunch of youngsters sitting in front of me were talking pretty loudly I can hear their words, explaining themselves one to another, with all their hearts, some even with tears on their eyes. Seems like they’ve been in a group together and recently had some clash.
And I thought: Ah, the perks of being youth. I envy them. I envy how they have the privilege of self explanatory.
The world I live in doesn’t welcome self explanatory with open arms. The world I live in doesn’t give a chance; they would go MIA in a blink of an eye and then comes back as if nothing ever happened. The world I live in doesn’t allow oneself to explain: What’s good in it? How that would help to the already compromised situation? Why waste your energy trying to convince people who won’t buy your words? The world I live in specifically requests us to let go of what happened and move on. Well, what if I don’t want to let go? What if I want to take your time and make you sit to talk about what happened? To talk about what I felt as it happened.
But no. The grown ups world I live in doesn’t do that. Grown ups pretend things are doing just fine. As if nothing ever hurt them inside. Only at pitch black corner of their world, only when they’re alone and lonely at the same time, that they come face to face with their broken inner selves.