When the harshness of life invades your soul with sadness and stresses your elements with despair, when the darkness of the days burdens your spirit with sorrow and wears your bosom with melancholy, when the echoes of your mind stutter and your whole being stands in disdain about the state of being that you have reached, only then you dare ask God the question ... Why?
When I look at the parallel side of me that manifests itself as my second half, I ask myself: Shouldn't my second half be the source of my happiness? Why then would things turn out to be farce and crumble before my eyes when I stand like a shadow so idle and still and worse of all a part in crime? Why don't I stick my nails in the skin of fate and hold on so tight and never let go until I tame life and manipulate it the way I want? Am I a culprit? Do I deserve it? I ask and ask when I am alone. I laugh and I cry... I wipe my tears and try to stand on my feet again. I stumble and I fall. It seems I am crippled. A wrecked ship lost in the sea of anguish without a star to guide its way. There is only a shadowy and hazy horizon ahead of me. Do I dare venture again? I was once a happy child. I jumped and played and I cared less. I fell down and hurt myself, I cried. Yet every time I fell I stood and every time I cried I laughed. Now I am older and shouldn't older mean you're wiser? I gave my all but now I fall and every time I can't stand tall? Is there balm in Gilead? Who is there to wipe my tears? Should I not be all ears? Should I just speak or should I hear? I should be back home again. I am tired of being a stranger. I should find my self again or this sweet soul will drown in danger.
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