There is a man scattered, looking for a friend, for a shoulder, for a purpose. He is searching the streets broken and having to turn to no one, other than himself. His pain was a ritual, that he had to conduct in private. His elaborate symphony was a cry on a constant mute. A morning comes, he can simply no longer take this pain and grief. Going on a walk, places himself on the tracks of a large beast with no breaks. A beast with no heart, with no feeling. Stunned by the impact, there was the man. For the world to see, a broken man. Broken mentally, and physically. People surrounded, now caring, now seeing the man for a body, not a soul. No one to ask why, no one to blame. No one knows why, and that was their answer. There is a man scattered.
Remind me the purpose of arms.
There is a place to go. A place where you can feel at home. Never let anyone feel they cannot come to you to feel at home. We grow up believing we are on our own. We grow up thinking there is no one else you can run to, but yourself. Feeling alone. Blaming everything, everyone, but yourself. We call it accidents, rather than death. We call it a cry for attention, rather than suicide. We call it a man who died in his sleep, rather than a man whose stroke destroyed him. We call it an accident, rather than no healthcare. We do this so we can blame something else, someone else. Rather than saying “It was me. I only have myself to blame.” We run from the silent cries of other people rather than saying “It may not be okay, but I am here. I am here for you.”
Remind me the purpose of heart.
Show love. Know it means something greater than words, something greater than actions. It is a presence felt by the warmth of one another. It is the presence of something or someone, the satisfaction of knowing we are here. That we are here for something, we are here for a purpose. We are here for each other. When we call it a person, not a friend. We call it a cry for attention, rather than a cry for help. We call it silence, rather than giving up. We call it selfish, rather than a loss. We call it a moment, rather than a realization that we live outside of our screens. The moment of realization where all you must say is “It may not be okay, but I am here. I am here for you.”
Remind me of happiness.
We live in a constant state of illusion. Let there be no purpose for us. We live in a world where it is frowned upon, people look at you differently; simply for feeling anything other than happiness. Happiness is not justified by common views, happiness can be found in the deepest darkest depths of our walls. We cannot accept we can find happiness in depression, we can find happiness in pain. Happiness is not defined by how big of a smile something puts on your face. Happiness comes when we feel a purpose, when we feel something struck in our bodies. We may feel as though we are nothing and why can’t we escape this feeling? Happiness can be felt when acceptance is. Accepting you are who you are, may that be for what you have done, or what you have been through. Happiness is seen when you can step back and see what is all around you. We call it happiness, rather than an escape. We are accepted once we have heard, “It may not be okay, but I am here. I am here for you.”
Do not let an accident be what makes you remember the purpose of a body. Do not force yourself to forget something greater than yourself.
Invest in niceness.