This is the world we live in.
A world where only some are heard. The ones who scream the loudest, the evil ones, and, ironically, also the self-righteous.
They, who proclaim their unbound holy faith, who recite their part of servants of God, prostrate themselves in church, tote a Bible studded with notes and bookmarks, reach out condescendingly to those who struggle at the edge of society.
But ignore (and berate) those who are closest to them. By right or by misfortune.
Those who trusted them because innocent and naïve perhaps (or, simply, too young and tender to understand), who unquestioningly placed their budding lives in their hands.
The invisible ones remain invisible. And always will be.
They can cry behind closed doors, then smile, joke, laugh in company, because this is what society wants.
Suffering is not cool.
It’s their word against the others’. And the others win, because life is unfair, uneven, meant to crush us (or, some of us).
The invisible ones can be beautiful. (Painfully) outgoing, (sadly) funny.
But long, sleepless nights are their routine. And human beings are resilient, are they not? We can get used to cohabiting with pain just fine.
Nobody knows. Christ, nobody knows.
Life is indeed a valley of tears.
Go on, lucky ones, proceed with your stable lives, be amazed, be amused, be touched by the loud phony ones, play their game.
Karma, some say. Karma will vindicate you. Will it make a difference though?
Will one’s suffering be worth it?
The wheel keeps turning. On and on and on.
Survival of the phoniest?
To be continued, I suppose.