frailty beneath the manic appearance.

A hurricane… sometimes the only thing to wash away the pain…

it seems as if the days pass so swiftly you can hardly hear the whisper of tomorrow when it becomes yesterday. suddenly i realise, i need time to recollect, to consolidate.

strength. it seems to be the buzz word around. but the more i hear it, the more i associate it with misery and suffering. "You are so strong." "Be strong." we only hear it when it there is need for reminding one to hold on, to hope, to believe. never when we have sunshine and rainbows. only sorrow.

i suppose after surviving a pregnancy discreetly and with almost no support, after going through emotional hell, and after attempting to complete medical school during the week and raising a two year old inquisitive daughter during weekends, i should be strong. or that is what i have been told.

i don’t know really. how would one gauge the strength of the soul? in the physical world, things are so easy. we see, and therefore we know. the biceps size, the ability to lift weights with little effort, all tell us how strong an individual is. but with things deep within, what do we look for?

i guess it is just a matter of relativity. but if that is truly the case, then should one be compared with those surrounding, or merely those who have undergone similar circumstances? and who is to say which factors are critical to determining the similarity of circumstances? if with those surrounding, that can hardly prove to be an accurate control.

it pulls at my veins, and it tugs at my bones. after what i feel has been a crime, toward my parents and toward my family, now becomes the very reason people wish to follow me after. granted, it was my response to consequences that caused me this honour, yet i feel, i should be disqualified. people who survived tsunamis, plane crashes and other tragedies bring a better life model to appreciate. as for me, i am just surviving. by grace nonetheless. yet without this grace, i am nothing.

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