There once lived a man who lived a happy life. But just like everyone else, he too had moments in which sadness would consume his being, when the utter helplessness wouldn’t allow him to move rendering him breathless.
One day, having had enough, he resolved to eradicate the helplessness for good and decided that he would never be sad again.
What this foolish man didn’t understand was that living a happy life just wasn’t that simple. To know happiness, one must first accept grief. To appreciate the light, one must know darkness. To know the true value of love, one has to experience hatred. For this world is that of relatives and the true value of something can only be measured against its polar opposite.
So all alone he walked a path that had previously been tread by many. He boxed up all the feelings of grief and anguish and locked them away, never to be found, never to be felt. That wasn’t enough though, and so he locked up any and everything that could ever lead to grief.
First went expectations, and then went trust, followed by the boulder that broke the camel’s back- love. And so what remained was an empty shell, hollow of anything human.
This man was stubborn though and so he remained steadfast, passing the lifeless carcasses of those whom he succeeded, until he too couldn’t walk any longer, and so he crawled for he knew that he did not possess the strength to return back to where he had started.
Once he fell in the chasm of no return, he knew that he wouldn’t make it out alone. And so, with a wide smile still on his face, he waited for the day that someone would pull him out and would drag him back to the place he dreamt to return to.
This naive man lies there to this day, waiting to be saved. The flame on his torch begs to die but the warmth of what remains of his soul, keeps it going. For in the depths of this chasm, one box creaked open, and hope lived on.