There was a child, a normal regular child, with a bit of innocence and a charming mischievousness. A slight correction though, he was not perfect, and no one is actually, but his imperfect parents were really disappointed with him.
How dare he was so imperfect in the world full of perfect individuals, or should I say, why wasn’t he imperfect in a way like others were ? Why was he so different?
For the parents, his abilities were less important, they were more focused on his weaknesses. That was the starting point of his cutting away from this perfect world, so devastated was his self respect, he was standing on his feet, but from inside he was on his knees, completely thrashed.
His limitations kept haunting him forever, but his fidelity towards his parents was still prevailing. He thought as if he was caged in this free world.
They all were afraid of death, he was afraid of life. He was found hanged a few days later, going against his parents seemed a lot more difficult to him than dying.
They judged him, ridiculed him.
But who cared what went on his mind?
We demand freedom to live and express, but for some, being free is to die.
Why can’t we accept their freedom?
If not, then why in the first place create such violent surroundings that for one to be free, death seems to be the only option.
What is the point of your life, if it has to survive within the walls made from maledictions of judgemental people?
It takes courage to live, absolutely true, no doubt about that.
But have you ever wondered how much courage one needs to die?
Think for yourself..