Some things fall apart more beautifully than others. Some things shine more as they die than when they fight. Some people feel more alive in moments that overwhelm them than the times when they perfected control. Some people never learn control. A carpenter’s hands were made for his trade just as a lover’s heart was made to suffer. If the bones in your fingers were as strong as a boxer’s, then perhaps you’d have learnt how to hang on a little tighter. But they are not. They are as brittle as your struggle and as frail as your resolve. Some of us were just not meant to scale mountains. If however, by the same unfair forces of nature that rendered us inadequate as such, we find ourselves up on a wall of sorts, whether we soared the way up or we rode on someone’s back, then letting go becomes the only option.
It is fifty meters above ground and the only thing you have got going for you is a fairly gray shade of survival instincts. But you cannot will yourself to grow a coat of steel when you are in the middle of an inferno. Just because some little part of you isn’t convinced that you cannot grab into the wall and gently (or otherwise) lower yourself down, does not mean that the rest of you will magically adapt and survive.

This is a song for you and for me. This is a voice in the bottom of the sea that waits to welcome you. It is the sound the thousands that drowned before you calling out and soothing you. It is that hum that assures you that we are not faulted. We are just different. And in all the different ways that we gave up, all the specific times that we bled out and all the wounds that wouldn’t close, we found our way to each other. To kindred souls that speak of the same pain and reek of the same shame. There is another world down here. A world that does not glorify strength and neither does it shun weakness. It a world that does not need to evolve, it just exists.


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