Helplessness

There have been many times in my life when I've felt helpless. It is perhaps the most acute pain a person can know, found within frustration and ventless frenzy. A bullet deep inside a soldiers arm cannot compare to the anguish a prisoner must feel at the crack of a whip, even if the whip does not strike at the debilitated convict's body, it surely would cut deep into at his soul. We are all captives at one time or another in our lives, prisoners to ourselves or to the expectations of those around us. It is a burden that all people endure and they will despise it, and few people ever learn to escape.

I consider myself fortunate in that respect. The years, months and minutes of my life has travelled along a fairly straight running path of self-improvement. Under the relentless scrutiny of hardships I suppose that my situations can only improve. In my contumacious ways, I believed that I could stand alone, that I was strong enough to conquer my fears with emotions and principles alone. Arrogance convinced me that by sheer determination I could conquer helplessness itself. Stubborn and foolish, I admit that now, for when I look at those occasions now I see quite clearly that rarely did I have to stand alone. Always there were friends and family, true and dear, lending me support when I believed I did not want it, and even when I did not realize they were doing it.

Friends, they are the people and companions who justified my principles, who gave me the strength to continue against any foe, internal or imagined, external or evident. These people are the convoy who altercated the helplessness, the zeal and the frustration of hindrance.

These are the intimates who give me my life

Writen in 2008