The fabric of life

There are days when despair surges up within me; when the fabric of life seems shorter and stifling - the days when the fledgling self wants to take a flight out in the open sky knowing there are risks of vultures and preys but opting for the sense of freedom nevertheless. These days, I realize, make everyone around me feel very concerned and worried. They want to see my happy face again and I am given numerous doses of motivation and positives of life :).

I know now - albeit only after few failed but brave attempts - it is difficult to make them understand that sickness is not a "bad thing" to have. This "sickness" is generally the starting point of changes in life; it might hold the key for the future by prompting oneself to cleanse himself of the "rotten waste within" and lay foundations for a new beginning.

With this sickness, although I am restless throughout the days - somewhere inside, I know that this is also only a "phase" and it will pass but only such phases are the "potential productive" phases of life since in the regular days, life is just moving on without any higher intelligence. I do look forward to this sickness since it will cleanse me of recently collected dust within my heart; it will suck the impure blood of my veins and it will quench its thirst from the tears of my eyes but then it might reward me with purity, help me regain my lost "sensibilities" by removing the layers of dust off it and make me feel more human than an automaton.I just feel that it is a bit hard upon us not to allow our fellow being to "cry"; to go deep into "despair"; to feel "bad" about what we have become.

Should we not all celebrate life in all forms? And let it flow - be it happiness or sadness? I just wonder of my stifling and ever narrowing fabric of life while the bird at my window looks far ahead into the sky, mocking me before embarking on yet another of those bouts of high, curvy flights into the open skies.

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