We are our own thoughts.
Emman's passing, for some reason, has pulled strings on me. How the acceptance that it's okay to feel emotionally weak sometimes. To cry on your knees when things are harder than they seem. To seek or shout for help at times when it felt like it's already too much.
2 days before my birthday, I was on the edge again. It felt like the world is falling apart. Karma. It is all I could ever think of. The time of the comeuppance of the Universe has arrived. My fair share of just retribution in the commission of its non-negotiable. Thus, I must go through it and let the Universe watch the impact of the verdict it cast upon me- the one I truly deserved.
And so I must be strong to face and savor the pain of its every whip. That I must bleed out dry. That I must be so broken so I can be whole again. That I must get badly wounded in order to heal. That I must accept weakness and see it as strength. God, I feel so very deeply. Or maybe I am just simply stubborn.
But in all of this, the Universe is truly kind and merciful-- for at times I think I would hit rock bottom, it sends out reinforcement reminding me to hang on. That no matter how thin the ice I walk on or the thread might be, I should keep the grit and grip in order to hold on.
Will is powerful than anything. Perhaps, as something in exchange of the supposedly forbidden knowledge (had not Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit), I should make use of it as a potion, an antidote instead of consenting it to poison its own.
We are not who we are, we are who we think we are.
