Bag Full of Sand

Never was it cold, never as it was today. Numbness, eyes freezing into the thin air, shocked, about to break the ice, about to burst into what could be a stream of river flow of tears. Looking at the screen, my hands and ears turn cold to an extreme point of shivers running down the spine. The struggles and nightmares you have been having has turned into a mere reality. It kills. Calls you had, texts you had, both asking and having a confrontation of comfort at the same time the embrace of a mother calms your soul. Not knowing, but knowing that the day was coming. Having felt an ominous feeling the night before causing an early hit to the sack of the bed, because of the sudden breakdown without knowing even why. The grey clouds and rain fill the serenity of what is flowing on the windows, down the ground, just as these tears flow down the cheeks that has turned red from the excessive cry of a mixture of regret and a hatred towards time who had been unfair. A mother, supporting a child's back, is one of the 'bags' you MUST keep forever and cherish. A sister who plans to think on how to work this; you're a winner. a friend who promises you to push you as you push them, they are roses that never dies, as they say; We're All In This Together, holding each others hands, pulling together to walk up on the same stage, holding a smile up proudly.

What proved much more was today, when what seemed to me was a lightning and thunder that came with a heavy rain, poured upon me, drowning me in my own tears. 2 hours is not a long time, but it is not a short time either, especially when all the heartbreaking parts happened in just one shot, enough to bring you down to the ground. Above, I stared, my pride, my joy, my tears but also my laughter, my friends and family, my beloved SUBJECT teachers especially, had given me a ray of sunshine to dry up the sea I almost drowned in. I seem to still float around the sea, but not drowning, atleast. What happened had somehow take a struck in me, in making a push, but at the same time, the gravity pulled me down with the harshness that came with it. It may hurt, but it was not the truth for sure.

A bag, some of us were today, punched, in the face, in the stomach, how much it must have felt. trust me, i know. it seems that every punch of every word spit on, had made me feel nothing, but miserable, crawling to the chairs and table, barely making out of hell alive. Being able to breathe for the second time, although at times, i just have seem to lose it, I'm thankful. For all the endured moments, I have lost all tolerance, for all that has been said all this while, I have taken in. People who knew, told what was needed to be heard at the same time was the fact that someone understood, and I'm never alone. My head hurts trying to laugh even, my eyes hurt trying to not cry, after crying.

Over reacting I may be, publishing a post where i could at least indirectly relay my thoughts, without knowing who will or not read it, i don't really care, for all my thoughts here could only be conveyed through the letters and words put out to be conversed as what seem to be my comfort. Hours passed by, and even as I am writing this, my eyes are crying in silence, as they seek for the laughter I had especially been craving for today. seconds of laughter I had, but hours of misery just thinking. As it may seem to be easier said to not be thinking about it, but to just ask time to visit my thoughts, the first thing that came to my head was just that.

If it may seem being a risk of putting this post, but I have posted nothing but merely my train of thoughts in order to protest myself from breaking into tears again. Some may know, some may question, but know this, no one else knows me better than whoever I talk to everyday. Thinking, will i be able to get up, will i be able to face crap without probably being cold or break?

Like a bag full of sand could be compared to somewhat episodes in our lives. Like a grain, it could be easily forgotten one day having it all compiled, making you strong, like a punching bag, strong enough to take hits. Same pain. Same resistance.

Someone said, betrayed. What i felt today, was betrayed, as witness to somewhat chaos, betrayed one of the words. Traumatized? I dont know. But to fight for it, In Shaa Allah, is what I will try on with the help of everyone around me. Thank You guys. i love you.