On the second day of my two-week isolation, I am in a place where there is nothing to do but think. Or perhaps it is the only recourse so I can forget the pain.
Recent griefs come to mind and there is no lack of painful stories. From friends. From family. From loved ones.
And the only question that's left to be asked is why? Why, in a world where each and every individual struggle to find love, does pain exist? Why does a woman leave her man and two children? Why does a man die with not a friend or loved one beside him? Why would a mother leave her offspring, her very own flesh and flood? Why did she abandon her four children when so many other women whose lifelong dream is to become mothers, don't get the chance to have even just one child? Why is there genocide? And war? And rape? How about child abuse?
Why does a brother leave home and why does his mother allow it? Why does a mother tie her child up to die in a fire?
Why does the body learn to accommodate pain instead of fighting it? Why does the brain get used to seeing 300 blisters all over the body? Why does the human spirit make room for grief instead of yearning for happiness? Why does it settle for the hardships? Why, in a world where love is the better option, do we choose anger, misery and pain?