Hg80Tuesday, July 28 MMXX 22:27h
What if…
Headaches.
Varying in frequency, rate and intensity.
The last few days a simmering one.
Constantly present at an intensity that can not be ignored, but stinging randomly just in case.
I went for a run this morning.
Out of the blue.
My head pounding.
Chaos and anger. Frustration and sorrow.
It had been a while sinds my last run.
The pain in my lungs made it clear that I was smoking to much.
Way to much!
A sharp pain shooting through my foot and up my leg, reminded me of the injury I had inflicted on myself.
And of the fact that ignoring an injury doesn’t accelerate healing.
Nor makes it go away.
Why!?
Why do I hate myself?
How is it that I hate myself so much?
The repulsion I have towards myself.
The hatred…
Although sports are considered healthy, I knew I was going to hurt myself ones again.
But I couldn’t care less.
I felt my body protesting after 300 yards.
And five miles later the protest had only grown.
A heart rate shooting through the roof, pain in my chest and my body crying for help I wondered once again:
What if ? …
What if I would drop dead right now?
Would the headaches be over then?
Or would the pain linger on in infinity?
Would it matter?
Does it matter?
Do I care?
…
A tidal-wave of questions flooded my brain as I picked up the pace.
Until it went dark.
…
All those questions reminded me that I do.
I do care!
I care about the world.
About every plant, creature and phenomenon.
And the fact that I’m trying so hard, fighting so hard to find a way is more than proof enough.
Yet despite the fact that I’m a philanthropist, I feel no connection what so ever.
No connection with them nor with myself because of trauma inflicted upon me.
And those injustices surround me still.
I am confronted with them daily and I still can’t do anything about it.
How than, am I supposed to cope with this unjust world?
With a world that has made injustice a norm.
And forces that norm upon the world.
I could tell you about the Waorani of the Amazon and the lawsuit they luckily won.
A lawsuit forced upon them where it had no right to be in the first place.
I could tell you about the tears that run down my face.
Tears of sorrow and frustration.
But then I remembered that all of this would not matter.
That it does not matter!, if I were to drop dead.
And that it would make no difference at all.
Hence I show you only half.
Half a part of me.
The other parts stay hidden as the whole you can not see.
Cause sadly I can’t trust what is called “humanity”.
But really, It Does Not Matter!
And I don’t care.
Not anymore.
Or do my hidden tears speak differently?
D-iC © MMXX
