The internet defines “sorrow” as a great sense of sadness, disappointment, and resentment. Some people need to type one or two words on their phone to understand it, but it is funny how one could encounter it naturally.
Sorrow comes to them naturally, as if it were part of their everyday lives. It is there until it isn’t. It comes without the realization that one suffers from it.
Somedays, it lingers like a plague.
Somedays, it is inherited from mother to daughter.
Somedays, it is a patch of clouds in a bright sky.
You were probably just lying on a field full of grass, relaxed and carefree, until one day you decided to fuse with the green grass. You were part of the soil.
Get liv’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
Now, a bird drops a pack of seeds on you, and it dresses up as a flower. Flowers are good, until you become way too addicted to them, yet you are still the grass. You just can’t tell each other apart.
The flowers could take over or integrate with you.
And you were probably on your train back home — exhausted and blank — and it dressed up as a man you thought was longing for you. A tall, tan, good-looking man from your dreams; somebody who feels just right for you, but somehow, he’s just a stranger.
A head full of assumptions and a heart full of premonitions aren’t enough for you to solve it. It was probably a red string of fate. But God knows not to take it easy on us, so we can actually learn.
It is probably the yeast starter from the sourdough you’ve been taking care of. Everyday, your feelings grow deeper for it. Feed it — check it — sing to it. And one day, you’re just tired of the steps, even though you knew the consequences from the start. It was never instant, but somehow, you’re just exhausted too.
Maybe we were just too young and clueless. The future is bright for tomorrow, but you just weren’t destined to see it through.
But sorrow comes as a part of us; it reads us and calculates us. It is unforeseen how the way we handle it defines us and shapes us. And maybe — at the end of the road — the sorrow will be gone. The sun starts reaping its karma, hand-picking us for something we never imagined before.
