I am dissatisfied

I am dissatisfied.

Most of all with myself… As I try to name this state that swirls within me, everything seems to grow deeper, more inward.

Sometimes I stop and look around. Nothing I see seems quite in its place. People, sounds, crowds… All of them transform into a separate hum inside me. And the human realizes that what is often exhausting is not the outside world, but the echo it leaves behind.

Yet existence is not a condition to be carried alone. The signs we wear, the postures we adopt, the distances we keep, the closeness we feel… All of these are efforts to establish belonging. But this belonging sometimes closes a person in upon themselves more than it connects them to anything else.

Even the broad circle we call family sometimes feels like a hand extended from a distant place. It touches but does not fully reach, it is near but does not fully embrace. The human being suffers most in these half-touches.

And what lingers most are the harsh words spoken after those who have left. Sometimes a person is wounded not by those who have gone, but by the silence left behind.

Perhaps the issue begins here: No one is entirely whole. Yet everyone looks more harshly at the gaps in others than at their own. But the human being multiplies only insofar as they can carry another.

Therefore perhaps the simplest truth is this: When a hand reaches out from within, do not turn it away. For the human being grows lighter when touching another; the human being softens through connection with another.