Today, I sit on my bed grinning. Experiencing melancholy, I've lived with the sentiment of being caught in a glass box for quite a long time. It gets hard to relax. It gets hard to see things plainly. Everything is contorted, even your own appearance. The reflection gazing back looks so massive thus broken to you, some piece of you trusts it merits this container. You live a very long time in this crate and now and again you end up slamming against the dividers, shouting to be let out. You trust urgently that somebody will come to allow you to out. Nobody comes.
Until you understand just you have the ability to allow yourself to out. You make a guarantee to yourself that you will. You settle on a CHOICE.
From the outset, it appears to be outlandish. So you search for a considerable length of time, weeks, or even a long time on end.
Inevitably, you decide to start looking past the glass dividers. You see the lamentably cheerful things individuals talk about in books and films. You see the blossoms on the opposite side, the magnificence in others, the excellence in yourself, yet past that, you see the easily overlooked details. You see the individuals who venerate you past what words can portray, you see the unlimited prospects that exist outside of the crate, you see all the various things you can move your concentration toward rather than the glass before you. You center more diligently to see and gradually it becomes more clear.
You at last observe yourself one day, the genuine you. The one you lost while gazing at the misshaped reflection.
The you who grinned wide and innocuous at your mom when you were one. The you who possibly cried when you fell and scratched a knee as a two-year-old. The five-year-old you who shouted so hard your lungs would blast as your dad pushed you on the swing. The you, who thought about simply eating the frozen yogurt in your ice chest after supper when you were eight. The you who felt thrilled with energy the day preceding a school trip when you were 12. The you who kept awake with your closest companions at sleepovers until three in the first part of the day when you were 16. The you who couldn't stand by to begin life at 18.
Lastly, you consider YOU to be you are. Despite the fact that you may never return to how you were, you are still all the things you have been and all the things you could be.
You are the unlimited prospects, the unlimited decisions you can make about who you need to be, about who you need to adore, about what you need to realize.
You connect with contact this lovely reflection you've decided to see rather than the beast. Yet, your hand goes directly through it. You understand there is no glass box. There never was.
We so frequently picked, again and again, to see the uglier pieces of ourselves in our appearance. We accept there is a case that we are bound to.
Picking one thing again and again makes it impulse, until one day, you don't.
So I sit on my bed grinning, acknowledging there is no crate. Acknowledging I can connect and snatch at any of the unlimited prospects. The unlimited decisions.
Hmm...Right. Sadness is very difficult task for human mentality. It decrease the health and body of human. So we should to try overcome sadnes.s. if any situations occur which are cause for sadness then just avoid overthinking about this...and avoid to be sad.