we are all born mad. some remain so.

i busy myself around at home, while my friends indulge in cupcakes, cookies, shopping, talking, blading. but i am waiting.
sometimes i meet my friends. i laugh, but each time i do my chest tightens with guilt.
i've long accepted the unfairness of life, or rather traded the possibility of flighty enjoyment like my globe trotting peers for something heavier.
i congratulate them. often i hear their laments, and i momentarily convince myself i could identify with them. but soon i learn of their endeavors in another part of the world, or donning a web-bought number, i understood i was never anywhere near there.
nonetheless, i now gladly admit that it was a choice made against my better judgement to arrive myself in this environment, and i begin to understand my siblings more, and appreciate what they have gone through and who they are. as if by divine command, our fates have been cemented through this episode. and we are waiting.
but it is difficult to understand how everything lays down to form into a single picture, and to cherish with a careful heart is all that could be offered. what can a heart's pain be soothed by when the source is too dear to be forsaken?