08/20/25 Real Helplessness

Today I learned what helplessness really is. Not the kind we mention casually, but the kind that strips you bare and leaves you staring into yourself with nothing but silence echoing back. It is one of the most suffocating weights a human can carry. You know exactly what you are capable of, yet you are forced to sit idle in the dark corners of your own mind, cursing the paralysis of your will. Impotent. Small. Nature is relentless in reminding us how fragile we are. Just when you think you have endured the last blow, that you have stitched yourself enough to keep going, it rips you open again. The abyss keeps getting deeper.

Imagine this. The one person who is your everything. The one you dream of giving the world to. The one whose laughter turns existence into something bearable, whose glance feels like purpose. Your grey life stained with sudden color because of them. Then the universe, in its cruelty, snatches them away. You curse your fate. You curl into yourself in the darkness, asking questions that will never be answered. Days turn to burdens. Nights into punishments.

And eventually, you adapt, if you can even call it that. You carve a fragile peace out of memories and whispered prayers, convincing yourself that wherever they are, they are smiling, they are safe, they are loved. That someone, somewhere, is giving them the happiness you always wanted for them. That thought alone keeps you breathing.

But nature is merciless. Just when you make peace with this fragile normal, it strikes again. And this time it shows you something worse. The person you hoped all the light in the world for is drowning in cruelty. The one who deserved to be cradled like something sacred is being cut down like weeds.

What do you do then? How much more is a heart supposed to take before it breaks for good? The gut twists until you are sick, the soul smolders until you can barely stand. The mind is gnawed from the inside out. I want to do everything, save them, fight for them, tear down the very sky if I must, and yet I do not know where to begin.

Fate plays its games with barbaric precision. And all we can do is watch.