Easy Till It Hits
Tragedy has a weird way of hitting people. You feel you can understand what it means to face it till you are faced by it. Never have I felt that something was as distant as it was close except. Let me explain this rather puzzling sentence.
When you hear stories, you can sort of picture how they played out. When someone tells you an experience and dramatizes the whole thing, it feels like you get it but you don’t.
Trust me you don’t.
You know why I strongly know that you don’t. You don’t get to recall the event in your sleep. You don’t get to see the event play before your eyes while you take a walk. Even when you are such an empath that you dream about it, it is still quite detached from your memory.
I will no longer act like I can relate to people’s tales anymore. I really didn’t know all the while that you cannot understand till you are there, till it is your own situation.
Maybe we should just let stories and experiences be what they are rather than trying to belittle the person by saying “I can relate” or “don’t worry”. Each case is different, each reaction is different too.
I can still hear the glass shatter. The black t-shirt and dark night are still right in front of my line of vision. Pretty much angry with how we had to move on fast and laugh so hard about it when it wasn’t funny.
Anyway, it’s easier to be told than to be the story bearer.
Cheers to much more experiences that teach lifelong lessons.
If that makes sense.