Sorrow

There is a type of sorrow which nobody will understand, or the very few. Perhaps it's our fault because we have tried a million times to explain and been cut short or even sniggered at. So we quit trying to explain and embrace it all. A sorrow shared, a sorrow halved? Pardon? What a sic cliche`. Nobody wants to listen about sorrow let alone share. I thought the world would stop and listen one day years ago, but nobody stopped let alone listened. And it's the kind of sorrow that hits us hard below the belt, or specifically high above the belt to the left. And it sends us reeling into the shock of the once upon a long time ago. It suddenly jumps into action and depletes us of even walking a few steps. It's that bad. It makes us cry, a shaking kind of crying not because we're cry-babies, but because we discover how very fragile it made us, and still makes us. It's so horrible. But we have no choice except to brave it by hiding behind large designer sunglasses, because quite ironically this type of sorrow is also designer sorrow. And such are we drained from energy that we really are not sure if we can make it to the car. But we do. Somehow. And it can get so bad that we forget that nobody ever understood and think we can explain. Oh dear how wrong. We cannot explain, because people cannot understand. And to be fair, even the most understanding of people cannot understand. I cannot hold it against them because it's not their fault. They don't know, the learned people are so unlearned in this type of sorrow. It hurts, but I'm glad for them, because as I didn't deserve it, so do they. Sometimes when I get so angry, the beast in me makes them wish they could at least feel some of it. But that's the beast, we all have one. Realistically, my heart thinks otherwise. And although it would help so much if they understood, we chosen ones have to learn and relearn that it's no use. The special sorrow stops with us. We don't have to continue, but we do. We just put it on hold in a special place, go on robot remote, make it back to the car, back home, and then finally embrace the sorrow. Because it's just no use, and the world will not wait. There are a million things which guarantee empathy, just not this one. We're on our own.