‘Your experience? A billionth of my own’

A strong form of human apathy, a hindrance to empathy: we equate similar experiences to our own. Instead of joining hearts, stretching our lingering limbs to clasp and envelop a shaking one, it becomes an analytical process. Judgemental. Critical.


In uneven breaths, they explain, “I just… I can’t… this… is too much.”

This‘ happens to be an all-too-familiar skeleton in your closet.

Building a barricade around your heart, incredulity rips the bottom corner of your lip, until the edges glint like a blade. “I endured this on my own. Not a soul to turn to –only the roaring sound of my own screams, constrained within four glass walls. My voice drowned longer than the entirety of your existence. Until I let the darkness engulf me. I haven’t been the same, but I kept myself alive. Though there were many, many days I wish I weren’t.”

“And you… how dare you grow intolerable of the mere presence of pain. Your experience? A billionth of my own.”

Yet, you forget pain is, in essence, pain. You forget that your glass walls had lingering limbs on the other side, trying to reach within your confines, but you snapped their loving fingers with gnarled teeth. You forget, after every lashing, savage bite, your heart grew number. The glass confines became thicker. But it needn’t matter –ultimately, no more fingers came to your aid.

And you forever harbour resentment for this submerged loneliness. The pain of battling your monsters alone.

You call this strength; the animalistic shredding of expression. Reducing oneself to the numbers, facts and critiques of the analytical brain. Removing the single essence of emotion, of vulnerability, of the  potentiality of letting warm touches soothe the stone your heart has become.

They, however, are a contradiction in every sense. Instead of waiting for lingering fingers, they outstretch their own trembling one blindly. A weaknessthrough your eyes.

You are wrong.

They epitomise strength.

And you epitomise fear. 




52 thoughts on “‘Your experience? A billionth of my own’

    • Hmm, I’m a little confused. Are you referring to the connection between this post and your own?
      I included your post as an example of another perspective of the challenge, not as a similarity to my own 🙂

  1. This is a very beautiful piece of writing and you use and have such tantalising vocabulary, it just strings it all together. The subject of this piece is also very intriguing, I’m glad it was brought to my attention! ^^~
    And thank you for linking to my blog! ^^~

  2. First off, what a striking post! I read yours this morning and it captured my attention right away. Very well-written, brutally honest with a graphic analogy of pain and empathy. I very much enjoyed reading this. Thank you, also, for linking to my blog post! Have a blessed day!

  3. Reblogged this on Teen Ramblings and commented:
    This is the newest post from the lovely Ramisa the Authoress (a dear friend of mine) and it describes how one can feel about their pain when others try to help relieve it. Quite well written, far beyond my more absolute tone, and I hope, dear readers, you’ll enjoy this. DFTBA!

  4. Beautifully written, as always, Ramisa. Thank you so much for your existence. Your blog is always so pleasing to read, what with your vocabulary, your sense of meter, and your atmosphere in every piece. ❤

  5. Pingback: Your Pain? A Trillionth of My Own… | Teen Ramblings

    • Absolutely love this take on the post. We’ve covered different perspectives, but yours is personal, and uncovers the true nature of depression in its darkest state, and the interactions within our minds and others around us. Not limited to that perspective, of course 🙂
      Meanwhile, mine concerned the form of apathy & strange sort of entitlement people feel when they ‘have it worse’ than someone else, struggling in the same boat. Also, seeing asking for help as a form of weakness is the reason we have so many problems in the world, imo.

      • I was actually discussing that very topic with other people. Depressed people tend to talk to others, and the listeners can’t help but feel used as a tool just to make the depressed feel better. I am sorely guilty of being the tool user, but it’s not for malicious intent. It’s just because I clutch onto life just barely so that everyone else can see me, but then I sink below the reeds of life so that when they grab me, they get pulled down and see the world as I see it. No illusion, no deception. Just blatant honesty through human psychology.

  6. I think learning to work with pain, accept it and understand it requires a mentality on a completely different level. Not allowing it to make you bitter or resentful but using it as a tool itself. After passing through a funk that clarity you get. You finally understand why what happened happened or at least have a better understanding. Everyone works differently and we cannot judge another person for how they deal with their issues. As much as we wish they wouldn’t give their pain as much credit. Learning that I cannot make someone let go of their pain was my lesson this year.

    • You have expressed such an important reflection of pain. I hadn’t considered the ‘bitter v tool for compassion’ comparison before your comment. As for learning you cannot make someone let go of their feelings… well, that must have been a difficult lesson indeed. The fact you have been self-aware to recognise this is a sign of growth 🙂

  7. Pingback: Sunday Round Up #10 | Laidig's Broadway

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