We are all in the Olympics of pain. Competing with one another who is the biggest victim of life. So desperate to prove how miserable we really are, our pain then becomes a badge we so proudly wear so we could compare it with one another. Aiming for I don't know what the trophy is, maybe the validation of our struggle. So some badges might be bigger, some might be shinier, some might have thorns. But the truth is they are all just the same: they hurt. None of them feel good for whoever wears them, and we are all wearing them. So what do we get really, in pursuing this title of the most pitiful? In the end no one is winning. Each and every one of us is losing.
If only we realize that there's always an option to strengthen one another, instead of killing each other. Our struggle is valid without having to pitted them against one another, and so those others'.
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Book of Unwanted Feelings
RandomHow I paint all those emotions that has been bothering me ever since
