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  • Writer's pictureNamrata Gurung

That’s not okay. And yet, okay.

I’ve always dreaded to recall what phase it was, went I felt alone, broken, torn apart, and scratched into shreds of no recognition.

I asked why was it did I have to face this situation. What crimes had I committed as a human to be thrown in front of a speeding train? And I realized that the world wasn’t a rose bed that you’d once thought. It wasn’t only the petals you once imagined, instead, you realize there are more thorns than the petals. That putting others over yourself wasn’t a deed for the good, but a stab to yourself. That karma isn’t always instantaneous. And that there might be answers you’ll never receive.

I’ve always been scared to reveal my scars, bruises, and the ones that bled. To save the world from horror, from facts that it can’t digest. I tried to hide versions of myself only to be accepted into normalcy that seems to exist. The normalcy of hushed voices, to be kept quiet to maintain a decorum expected for things to run smoothly and seem calm. We are hypnotized into a dysfunctional society to slowly die internally yet maintain a mask as though everything is okay and will be okay.

I just wanted to say, that’s not okay. And yet, okay.

It’s not okay to hide how you authentically feel, because it reveals the source of hurt, the one that needs to be treated. And it’s okay to speak freely to let it out. It’s not okay that we expect everyone to figure it out by themselves without support because we are self-centered. It’s okay to feel alone because you know no one else will understand anyway. It’s not okay for society to keep judging your every move just so they can justify their insecurities. It’s okay to feel hurt when they do. It’s not okay that we are forced to live in a world technologically connected yet internally disconnected. It’s okay to feel lost. It’s not okay that you are expected to either be an unaffected superhero or to accept yourself as an unfit hanging piece of shit. It’s okay to feel misplaced.

We’re aware of exoplanets and gravity waves, yet unaware of humaneness. We know how to build nuclear bombs yet don’t know why we need them. We are aware of how to earn thousands of dollars, yet unaware of how to treat another human. We don’t mind turning our faces into dogs on Instagram yet don’t know how to take care of a real dog. We’re aware of why certain countries hold the positions they do, yet keep suffering the bullies in silence. We’re the most aware society in terms of news, yet the highest in inaction and dormancy. We’re societally and ecologically aware yet continue to make and watch decisions based on greed and hierarchy. We’ve failed to used logic and common sense and are probably worse off than our ancestors who at least knew what a  community meant. We run behind AI for solutions, yet have failed to develop and tune into our own intelligence to align with nature’s symphony. We’ve stopped hearing ones that raise questions against the current state of being because if we do, it’ll topple the whole system. Some of us, never question, some of us, do, but too late that we feel incapacitated. So we create our own little bubbles of happiness that can sustain us with enough to worry about for a lifetime until the cycle continues, with another birth, another unknown born into a system it might not have chosen to. We’ve reached a stage of collective silence that we feel it’s better if entropy takes over than us trying to build together.

Or maybe, I am the dreamer. The overthinker. The outcast. The one that needs mending and breaking apart of ideals so that they fit in a defined box, which is passed on from generation to generation. Unfortunately, I was born too stubborn. Unfortunately, the pain has become my friend. Unfortunately, death too, has become an old pal of mine I often have conversations with. Unfortunately, every stroke that meant to break my ideals to fit into a box, made my ideals so swollen that they expanded even more. Unfortunately, the society that wanted to shut me down has instead aided me to speak up even louder. Unfortunately, my body has started to turn spikes of hurt into vaccines for a more immune ideal. I don’t exactly know when the unfortunate moments turned into the fortunate ones, but what I do know is, that they did. And what I do know is, they can, for you too. Not in another lifetime, but in yours. That your life isn’t someone else’s to live, but yours. What I do know is, everyone gets a different mountain to climb, some get hills others get Mt. Everests sometimes without gears or oxygen cylinders. What I do know is, it’s possible to either spend a life closing your eyes and laying at the foothill following the orders of those over the hilltops, or start climbing slopes of your own and learning on the go knowing that falling into cliffs is a possibility, yet being ready to spend a lifetime learning, falling and expanding your limits, because no one else apart from you can tell, what it feels like being atop your mountain.



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