Happiness is overrated. And seriousness should make a comeback.

Physically, I’m busted. Emotionally, I’m drained. Mentally, I’m screwed. There ought to be a point of time in life when you shouldn’t even need to, want to or bother to explain. Yet, you still do. But what hurts deeper is when your silence opens up a flood of unwarranted judgement. You are being assumed differently, merely on a few words you’ve written or said. But the more you say, the more you are wronged. Misunderstood. Taken out of context. Used. And then misused.

People become unforgiving. You are asked to quicken your pace to catch up with the world, their feelings and their state of being. What is wrong with my pace? After all, I’m just starting to unlearn the past. Why must I always be the one to catch up? Why can’t you follow my steps or walk with me?

When I get better, I need to run again. Even if it bust my knees and ankles. I need to mete it all out.

—–

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m at a better state of mind these days, in a state just where I want to be. But I’m also a little annoyed. Unfortunately, it’s something more than words can say.