Sometimes, happy thoughts say goodbye. Cherishable memories move from their addresses in the Happyville. They don’t tell where they would go. Without them, there won’t be any difference between physical and mental agony. Whatever we do, just affects us the same. We talk about our emotions. We bare our skin. They attack us by wringing our emotions. They attack us with sickles and axe. We cry. We bleed. We hide our emotions. We suture the wounds and conceal them with bandages. Pretend the weakest links are not present. Avoid the emotions. Avoid risks. How do we feel alive again? How do we stay alive? One fine morning, the suppressed emotions leak out and we don’t know what to do with the fallen facade. The suture of the wounds snap and the blood wets the bandages and stains the skin. The curbs of the road break and we don’t know where the pedestrian path is and where the road. Like the alcoholics, we embrace the weakest links before we struggle to get back on track. The emotions douse us and wounds burn. In vain, we suffer. Vacuum suck the emotions back into the ampoule. Suture the wounds without anaesthesia and pull to knot them in place. Somebody needs to hand out a strategy to us: How to avoid being killed, physically and mentally.
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