What’s in a Bowl?

  Something inside me continues to question why. Why is that our brains have to make us suffer? Why is it that our hearts have to make us suffer? 
  Suffering at times can be a very beautiful thing, for knowledge is gained. Some truths come from pain. There are moments that trickle into life that are completely unexpected pain, perhaps the pain that others cause.
  I walked into the ward this evening and passed by a room with a girl inside. She was alone, it was visiting hours. She was on her bed rocking herself back and forth and uttering words full of anguish. She was shaming herself for not being strong. I can’t step into her room. It’s against the rules, for I do not even know this young girl. I wanted to go inside. 
  My father. I step into his room and suddenly he turns to me to say hello. This my friends, is progress. He’s eating a tiny bit more. He’s observing others. He told me a story about the girl across from him and how her intellect was impressing him today. I didn’t tell him she was in her room beating herself into a bloody self shame now as he speaks so highly of her. 
  My father. He told me that he is beginning to feel like he’s awake. He described himself as a goldfish bowl. A bowl that others throw food into. The food comes at him so quickly and it looks so appetizing, but once it hits the bowl, it’s gone. The food is no longer in existence.
I sat there wondering why he wasn’t a fish. Why is it that he proclaimed to be the bowl? 
  When I left, the young girl was telling herself that she’s made so many mistakes. She was still absorbed in her own dark bowl. Her bowl has murky water. It seems to me, she was eating…Soaking every last bite up with a fine piece of bread. 

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