Saturday, October 26, 2013

An old unpublished post.

The Fallen.

There have been many times where life has knocked me down and each time I would dust off my knees, get back up, determined not to let it happen again. This most recent fall was an accumulation of double punches from different corners coming at me all at once. This time, I had no desire to get back up. I wanted to lay there for a while, I didn't have the strength to get up again. I just needed a break. Surely a friend will be willing to offer a helping hand. I'm not sure how long I was fallen. Days went by, weeks, months. My strength didn't renew itself and no helping hands came, no one had cared that I had fallen. I questioned the Lord. "Have I not lived a moral and just life? Have I not loved my friends fully and unconditionally, the best way I know how?  Have I not been there when they had fallen? Have I not given enough, been charitable enough, kind enough, to be given a helping hand by somebody " The Lord didn't have an answer for me then.

So I remained there, fallen, praying and hoping my strength would return. You see, I wanted to get back up, but it wasn't me who brought me down, it was people, and I didn't want to battle people anymore. I had given so much of myself to other people, yet there I remained. Fallen, nobody willing to give me a helping hand. I had finally lost faith in all people. With all things considered, if no one cared that I had fallen. If no one cared that I needed help, then why should I? Why should I get back up if people will only beat me down again. Why should I get back up to have my charity returned with selfishness. Why should I get back up to experience a society that would murder innocent children. Why should I get back up to experience heartache, heartbreak, disappointment,  regret and failures. Why should I get back up to witness how we work to destroy and persecute each other for unknown reasons. Why should I get back up? The Lord didn't answer that either.

I contemplated it. Oh, how nice would it be. I contemplated it... to be finally free of worries, stress, pain, regrets. How nice it would be indeed. Yes, I contemplated it. No one had noticed, no one had cared I had fallen. Then no one would care if...

I closed my eyes and I contemplated it. Behind my closed lids I saw my mom in my apartment. She had aged overnight by 20 years. I saw her packing up my belongings and my dad and brothers taking them away box by box. I saw my sister with red-eyes, swollen, helping my mom, while my nephew kept asking her I was. I opened my eyes and I contemplated it no further. I had found the strength that had escaped me. I was tired but I stood up. My knees were bruised, but I dusted them off. My joints ached, my soul was weary but I put one foot in front of the other. Though I was no longer fallen, my head hung low.

From there I re-entered the world. I moved ritualistically throughout my day. I donned the nice clothes, carefully applied makeup and perfected my facade with a smile. Any cracks in my facade were easily hidden by the business of a hectic lifestyle. No one would know, not even myself, that behind the stoic persona, behind the quiet gaze of guarded eyes, I yearned for someone to reach out and notice me. No one did, so no one knew that day by day I withered inside. Days seemed to flow together, one turned to another, pairing perfectly with the gloom of the winter skies, and I performed my ritual flawlessly. Until this one day... when the Lord rose and lifted up his angel.