Overlooked Inconsequentials:


" I asked, “Who‘s there?” It’s me. It‘s me again. And it’s me the third time."

   The human society has been functioning for centuries now.Our history books are filled with tales of glory and failure our ancestors experienced in respective parts of their worlds ;even as they contradict one other one thing is transparent as we lay eyes upon our surroundings.Through the wars and bloodshed, through the decades of women being treated as animals and children as slaves ,we somehow survived. We developed into a world which can to say the very least ,keep up with the illusion of peace if not its notion.

"I wanted someone to notice (my suffering), but no one knew. Of course, they wouldn't. They never met me before."
   I can envision a day for it.The day when people realize how ugly we are on our insides and take a day off to think about who they are as people rather than what they represent. I write with the hope that my words will bring you up to speed with what we are doing and in some cases what we have already done.

"If I ask why people died, they would probably say they couldn't bear it any longer."


   Cheongdam-dong, Gangnam District southeastern Seoul , December 18, 2017.I ask those of you still reading this, is it really to brutal to name the events of that day as homicide rather than suicide? Is it really not our shortcoming as a whole when anyone reaches this point?

"Among the living, there is no one who is suffering worse and no one who is weaker."

   I do not hope for saints now. They no longer exist in this world. I don't expect us to become solace to the broken and tincture to the wounded.
   It is only recently that I realized though that we have reached a stage where it is too much to ask people not to catalyze a mental breakdown, to refrain from becoming the cause of someones despair if we cannot become the light of their eyes , to not serve as the push that sends someone tumbling into an endless spiral of hopelessness.To not feel obliged to overlook those long ago mentioned factors that prevent humans from hurting another human, those factors which urge us to help, those qualities which were my life a week ago have now become a fairy tale.

"Do I need more reasons to be in pain? More dramatic details in my stories? More stories even?"


  Somewhere along the past it was drilled into our consciousness about things that matter and things that are insignificant enough to be overlooked.Our inconsequentials if you may.

   It seems to me that whenever someone takes their life its my inconsequentials mocking me. My inconsequentials accumulating to play the key role in someone else's tragedy. I feel my hands painted crimson every time I drive a knife home, my tongue turned to lead as I swallow those pills, my world growing dark as I willed my body to inhale those toxic fumes against its nature.

"Things you can bear and even come above do not leave scars."
  How long before we register?  How long will it take to recognize the events of that day as an aftermath to how we treat celebrities? The way we are rapidly forgetting their rightful claim to necessities that go deeper than fame and wealth? The way we are neglecting their needs as humans in our race to accept them as superiors?

"Tell me I suffered enough."


   How long until everyone accepts that in reality its our overlooked inconsequentials that are damaging our world beyond repair; by extinguishing lights that were blinding enough to our squinting eyes to make seeing and not seeing equivalents.

 "It‘s a miracle that I endured through it all this time."


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