To live, to see, to hear, to feel.

So here I am, sitting in the middle of a church service as I type this entry. Amidst hundreds of firm believers solemnly worshipping their God they wholeheartedly claim to be the strongest and the best, I find myself… staring at the insulation structures that make the hall’s ceiling. The guys on both my left and right have raised their hands – coming clean that they are going through storms of their own. I put my hands on each of their shoulder in my support for them, while I can only keep looking up at the ceiling and ask myself what I was doing here. It is intensely emotional: the boy on my left, a nineteenth year old chap, has broken down uncontrollably. At the moment, in the emphasis of his holy presence, it never fails to happen. Not the first time I’ve seen this. But I am, honestly, unable to comprehend such an experience. My best explanation? “In the moment”/ under the pounding music that thug at your heartstrings/ because of the pressure and influence. I pat him on the back thrice, a couple of times. But amongst all the other thoughts that do not slow down in my subconscious, a wave of anger swept through me, top till the bottom. Listening to the service which I had no interest in, and hearing the music that is pounding; I was frustrated. Why do people have such a strong belief by someone who is invisible, omnipresent, but blind to our naked eyes? How is it that he could be of so heavy an influence on these people? Why do they have their insecurities dealt with by someone who isn’t even there, and be so certain that he is there? Why don’t people ever credit themselves for their courage, or strength, or resilience when they overcome obstacles? The bread on the table which they have brought home – that is theirs, yet they glorify him and give him the credit despite it being themselves providing for their needs? Of course, this was the greatest thought hitting against the sides of my head.
While I lose myself in a daze staring blankly in the ceiling room, in a crowded hall that was packed, the sermon droned on and fades into the background. What was I here for? Where do you want to go in life, really? What am I doing now in life? Truly, why was I here?

And then there’s me,occasionally stealing glances at him, on my left. Pretending I was not at all bothered. The answer was clear to me, and I am certain: the right guy, but at the wrong time, is the wrong guy. Indeed. We do not understand each other, and I cannot visualize anything at all. This was a dead end, and there simply was nothing to bring us crashing through the brick wall. It just doesn’t work that way. I am quite sure this is more or less fixed, and I am quite so affirmative.


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