"Why are you so hunched? Why can't you stand up straight, sir?"
"Oh, it's these damn bags. They are so heavy, I can barely lift them..."
"But.. why don't you empty them? Or ask someone to help you?"
"Because, young lad, I would then have to share what lies within. And that... is something I cannot do."
"Please sir, it bothers me to see you under their weight. Let me help you."
The man thought about it for a minute or so.
"I suppose it might be worth a try. But, if you walk away in the middle of the story, my bags will only get heavier."
"Let's sit, sir. Then you can tell me the story."
The man sat down, still with bags in his hands. The boy sat next to him. He had a small bag next to him, barely noticeable.
"At first, my bag was light and did not bother me at all. With every small lie, it would get a bit heavier, but I did not mind. Then... well, I could not imagine how heavy a broken heart would be. I carried it around, never trying to mend it, bending under it's weight. From that, came rage. Fury was not that heavy, until it piled on in stacks, up to the point when I could not get rid of it. Some years later, I came across love. That was the thing that turned it all around. I felt like I could fly, no worries no cares. But lust made me fall and crash badly. After that, everything came back. The mended heart was broken again, and another one I've broken was added. I was angry at myself, and it made it all even heavier. I though one day I could fix it, but then she passed away, and I knew I will never be able to say "Sorry". That, my friend, is why I am so hunched. That is what is in my bags I cannot lift."
The young man sat in silence. He was thinking about it all. Does a man who has done so much wrong to have bags that heavy deserve to get help? Just on the though of it, his own bags got filled with guilt and sadness.
"Sir... Your story is sad and filled with bad things, but I will have you know... that what ever you did you have redeemed yourself by living with the burden all your life. Now, you shouldn't suffer any more."
And so, standing tall and proud, the boy took one of the bags from the old man's hand and put it over his back. Just at that moment, the bag started to empty. It soon became so light that the wind that came blew it away, and so the boy and the man sat down, pleased and relieved.
The burden of our past should not be ours alone to carry.
Sharing it could be a way to save ourselves.
We're not alone.
"Oh, it's these damn bags. They are so heavy, I can barely lift them..."
"But.. why don't you empty them? Or ask someone to help you?"
"Because, young lad, I would then have to share what lies within. And that... is something I cannot do."
"Please sir, it bothers me to see you under their weight. Let me help you."
The man thought about it for a minute or so.
"I suppose it might be worth a try. But, if you walk away in the middle of the story, my bags will only get heavier."
"Let's sit, sir. Then you can tell me the story."
The man sat down, still with bags in his hands. The boy sat next to him. He had a small bag next to him, barely noticeable.
"At first, my bag was light and did not bother me at all. With every small lie, it would get a bit heavier, but I did not mind. Then... well, I could not imagine how heavy a broken heart would be. I carried it around, never trying to mend it, bending under it's weight. From that, came rage. Fury was not that heavy, until it piled on in stacks, up to the point when I could not get rid of it. Some years later, I came across love. That was the thing that turned it all around. I felt like I could fly, no worries no cares. But lust made me fall and crash badly. After that, everything came back. The mended heart was broken again, and another one I've broken was added. I was angry at myself, and it made it all even heavier. I though one day I could fix it, but then she passed away, and I knew I will never be able to say "Sorry". That, my friend, is why I am so hunched. That is what is in my bags I cannot lift."
The young man sat in silence. He was thinking about it all. Does a man who has done so much wrong to have bags that heavy deserve to get help? Just on the though of it, his own bags got filled with guilt and sadness.
"Sir... Your story is sad and filled with bad things, but I will have you know... that what ever you did you have redeemed yourself by living with the burden all your life. Now, you shouldn't suffer any more."
And so, standing tall and proud, the boy took one of the bags from the old man's hand and put it over his back. Just at that moment, the bag started to empty. It soon became so light that the wind that came blew it away, and so the boy and the man sat down, pleased and relieved.
The burden of our past should not be ours alone to carry.
Sharing it could be a way to save ourselves.
We're not alone.
Cicmila
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