Feels of my Vulnerability

You know some people have a disorder. And I don’t know if it has a name. But, it’s a kind of disorder, where people could not themselves contemplate what they should do_’try once more or give up’.

They would think that everybody needs someone at some point. And they try to be that one person for them. No, not because they crave for attention but, because they know how does it feel to feel isolated. And that’s how they always show up when needed. Even when it’s not been said, they comprehend the situation and commensurate all the past moments of disbelief and they always, always show up. Even if the other person’s tongue is refuting and asking them to leave, they know what the heart wants. 

But, where they fail is_ ‘to contemplate for how long’. 

And that’s where they perish. That’s where they ain’t themselves anymore. They even forget if their personal lives matter. They remain unvented all the time. They’ve been so nice to everyone all this while that they are the only ones people turn towards when they can’t find anyone who’d understand them. And they ain’t proud of it. They just feel lucky. They feel lucky that God put them as His representatives when it comes to helping people. They feel lucky that they are not in their situation because maybe, just maybe their hearts might be vulnerable to feels.

But, after a while, they start to realise that they weren’t God, nor the angels but, just mere humans with feelings and emotions of their own. And while listening to the grievances of everyone for too long now, they start counting theirs. They start feeling their pains, their aches, which they had been trying to defy and deny all this long but, they can’t find anyone who would wipe off their laments. They would then diffuse themselves. They would then wonder why was it so hard to care and not expect it back. Why was it so hard to keep lingering around in the hope of being someone’s solace and not expecting to be lifted up? Why was it so hard to just not care about it? Why couldn’t they be perfect? Why was this imperfection of vulnerability there to haunt them for an iterative loop?

And finding no answer, no call, they turn down their emotions. They weep before their Lord and all of their emotions and vulnerabilities are taken away. But, they remain the same person. They do the same thing all over again, and again. And they cry, and cry and cry until when it’s the blood that starts to pour out of their eyes and they couldn’t just stop. They can’t. It was never in their hands.

And so they always stay that way_

‘vulnerable to feels’.

_Saiz