The Cost of being Human
AI does not look at life as deeply as I do,
AI does not feel the feelings I have felt,
AI does not endure tough times the way I did.
AI never walked through the swarm of emotions I carry.
It does not stay stuck processing life for days like I do.
It does not feel other people's pain and joy.
It does not question its choices and caliber.
It does not beat itself up when plans fail.
It does not freeze when life throws a curveball.
It does not stand spellbound before broken integrity.
When I write,
a valley of emotions simmers for days
before boiling to the surface
to take the shape of words and
flow out in ink on a crisp piece of paper
with my hands moving across the page
before they suddenly stop
while my heart gets pulled into the countless memories
of how many times I fell and stood up
and moments later,
the mind realizes it is time to write again...
But a few tears choose to wet the paper
spreading the ink that the pen had scribbled,
and the fog of tears now blurs my vision
I decide to wipe them off and write again,
but realize the paper is not crisp anymore.
It's the lump of stress that sits in my throat,
travels through my heart aching,
touches my skin pinching,
inches to my feet leaving them pale and cold
and then back up making my face red and warm
carrying the story of my suffering,
my resilience,
and the quiet decision to not collapse.
When I write,
it is the story of my life
that connects with so many more stories out there
struggling to be told but
silenced by helplessness,
sometimes lost in darkness.
When I write,
it is also from the joy of the times I endured
and still stand in one piece
broken but never shattered,
heavy hearted but moving lightly,
grounded but with head held high,
humbled but also proud.
When I write, it is because
I acknowledged suffering
but refused defeat.
I embraced that I was nothing-
yet so much more.
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