The Depths of Desperation

 woman wearing black sleeveless top in front of green leaf trees

I have always wondered about the benchmarks we seek to compare our lives with. How can the cruelty of fate towards a terminally ill kid be compared to the agony a stillbirth costs a mother? Does any mundane problem stand a chance of topping a homeless kid compelled to eat from the trash? Is any pain tall enough to match a soldier being tortured for the country? Or should we just force ourselves to think that our dilemmas aren’t worth distressing over because we are so lucky we are spared from a greater misfortune?

           But the tricky thing that often escapes our thoughts is an interesting trait of humans; we don’t tend to understand a situation quite all that clear until it happens to us, until we are in the heat, until we are in amidst of all the casualties. Then how on earth, one can honestly convince oneself that they are better off?!

           The answer I think is, we never can. Possibly no one can. Well, that is the fun, isn’t it? Instead of having to undermine my moments of desperation because someone else has it worse than me, means nothing to me. All I know is, I have it so bad and I have never known myself to be this vulnerable. And that is alright as long as I rise above! At the least, I rather am trying to cope with the fact that I can only make a rope to climb back up from my own personalized version of downhill rather than diffusing the severity of my unfortunate present.

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