It is going to be six days since we last spoke. Contrary to the conjectures, I am sadly paying the price for something I wasn’t even part of. Actually, it happened when I was miles away going about my work completely oblivious to what was happening on the other side — messy fight, inflammable tempers, hurtful words; the bottom line being that the one who got hurt first, wasn’t going to speak to others for the rest of eternity. How did I come in picture? Purely through association with the ‘guilty party’.
Ironically, differences have smoothened out between the others except me. I am left with a lot of “whys”, none that arise from a broken heart because a heart repeatedly broken never really discards the painful fragments. But when it gets overbearing, when it feels that I am the only one living a life of unfair consequences, I waste no time and glance at my neighbours, sailing in a boat as battered as mine.
She is quiet, takes her time to react when caught in a conflicting situation and mostly gives way to tears when hurt. She is a lot like me, but isn’t me. This other friend, though unlike how a true friend is supposed to be, doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why she won’t shout back when shouted at. Why she won’t get out of the suffocating circumstances presently caught in. He thinks she is weak. When I heard this, I laughed.
There are things that make you laugh, not because they are hilarious but because you fail to understand why the others are so blind to something so plain and obvious.
Bullies, they are everyone, they are in everyone. They tear down when the only thing needed of them is a million mile distance between you and them. They feel they have better understanding of situations that doesn’t even concern them. They feel they are right and just and then focus on making others act accordingly.
1) I sometimes resist an urge to taunt a person who ends up using words and phrases that is very similar to my style of writing.
2) I sometimes bite back my words that can shatter somebody’s life-long dream.
3) I curse myself when I resort to silence when the only thing I really wanted to do was tear that being in hundred little pieces.
4) I stop myself from writing words that can break souls.
Writing for me is a compulsion, it naturally comes to me and I need
to let is bleed.
~ Tenzin Tsundue
So rather feeding the bully, I let it bleed out of me in the form of these words. I tell a story, which if kept inside would be the reason of my greatest agony. And when it stops bleeding, I let love stitch me up.
Love is stubbornly praying for your ‘enemies’ till you see ‘enemies’ are illusions and God makes everyone grace in your life: a friend.
~ Ann Voskamp