Hurricane
We stand in the middle of a hurricane, surrounded by rocks, furniture, shattered debris, and dangerous objects hurtling towards us at terrifying speeds. We spend our energy dodging what threatens to break us, only to find ourselves, when the storm finally passes, left to clear up the devastation it has caused.
As all of this unfolds, we convince ourselves that we are to blame—that we caused the storm. We see ourselves as the black weed in a perfect field of pure white lilies.
We become enveloped in guilt and shame, believing we are unworthy of anything good. We assume others look at us with judgment and disgust, even when they may not.
So we keep walking—exhausted, bruised, and weighed down by anxiety—wondering why we are not further ahead in life. We peer through other people’s windows, comparing their stories to ours, asking why we can’t be more like them.
And beneath it all, one question echoes louder than any other:
Is this life?