Just the way it is

Just randomly I read yesterday about how we should never share our favourite things, movies, songs , places with people and maybe it's true. We shouldn't. People ruin beautiful things. No matter how close we consider them, the inexplicable ways in which we find something surreal can never be felt by another individual. I can never really explain why I love When Harry Met Sally, it's just I like it. Everytime I watch it I smile. I even cry but I smile more. Similarly there's no reason to why I like Whisper of the heart. There's a tinge of reality in these movies that scares me and shakes me to my core but yet fulfills me in ways I couldn't emphasize about. 

Another thought was revolving inside me from a long time. When do you know that a person considers you? Happiness when shared increases but does it mean a person really considers you just because they shared something they are happy about. Maybe misery and sadness have more binding power than happiness. Maybe the day we can truly share our vulnerabilities, our insecurities, everything that eats us up when we try to sleep, maybe that day we might be truly considered by someone. The hope of finding that person in every person I meet is never ending. Maybe the trauma really never goes, it just deviates from its straight course of action when we talk about it. We just give a part of our suffering to someone else so that they can neutralise it's effect. Maybe that works. Maybe that's why therapy exists. 

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