A Sudden Collision with Fate

It happened in a flash, like a sudden bolt of lightning from the sky, scorching everything in its path. The accident wasn’t external — it was an internal war that followed, a relentless battle in a desolate field where I stood alone, fighting an invisible enemy. As I fought, I lost so much that a strange emptiness began to settle deep within me. It was as if I had become a hollow vessel, echoing only the sound of my silent despair.

Sometimes, when I watched children laughing and playing, a wave of sadness would rise inside me. There was a silent scream in my heart, “How do they play so freely?” I felt as though my own heart had withered, like a dead flower robbed of colour and scent. I would ask myself, “Why doesn’t my heart desire anything anymore? Why am I no longer like them? Have I drifted so far from myself that I’ve lost my capacity for joy?”

As these thoughts stirred, life revealed a bitter truth: “Everything seems beautiful when you’re carefree, but when worries, burdens, and responsibilities close in on you, they crush you from the inside.” A quiet emptiness had taken root in me, like the leaves of a tree falling in autumn, yet the tree still stood, knowing full well that spring would never return.

People often told me, “You write well, you seem fine. What could be wrong with you?” How could I explain to them that my words may be fine, but the storm raging inside my soul was tearing me apart? No one knew how their simple actions, their everyday words, carved new wounds into my heart — wounds that never seemed to heal, as if every day I was given another scar to bear.

In my solitary conversations with myself, I often wondered, “Why don’t people understand me?” And then, almost immediately, another voice within would whisper, “Maybe you don’t understand yourself. Maybe this battle is yours alone, and no one else can fight it for you.”

In the beginning, when people pitied me, I felt even more like a victim. It was as if I had become a wounded bird, unable to fly but still looking to the sky, hoping for a miracle. But with time, a harsh reality began to surface. I fought with myself and taught myself one simple lesson: “You cannot afford to be weak in this life. Weakness may be your nature, but fighting is your necessity.”

This battle became my daily reality. Every day was a new battlefield, with a new enemy. People came and went from my life, each bringing their expectations. If I met those expectations, I was praised, as if I had won some great victory. But when I fell short, criticism rained down on me, as though I were an empty vessel that could never be filled.

I often asked myself, “Is this true? Am I a failure?” And another voice, somewhere deep inside, would answer, “You’re judged by the world’s standards, measured only by what you’ve gained and how much you possess.”

And then the truth would slowly unfold before me, like a curtain being drawn back: “Even after gaining everything, if your heart is not at peace, if your soul feels heavy, then all of it is meaningless.” I would say to myself, “Maybe I’ve lost everything, even after gaining it all.”

The weight of worldly things bore down on my soul, and I grew tired. All of it — this endless pursuit — was just an attempt to ease the burden of existence, like a futile effort to shake off a heavy load. And that exhaustion, oh, it had sunk deep into my very being.

I would often engage in quiet conversations with myself, “When will this battle end? Will I ever be able to sleep peacefully?” Sometimes, I just wanted to close my eyes and drift into a long, deep sleep — so deep that no one could wake me. I’d whisper to myself, “Maybe this sleep is the peace I’ve been searching for… maybe this will be my final battle.”