The Burden of Existence

November 16, 2009

To him it was all just a game. The fact that he was deaf did not deter him from approaching this disability, the resulting lack of communication, and the inevitable crushing loneliness, with a bit of prudish obstinacy. He was a proud man – have been for all his life – and so it was hard, nearly impossible, for him to admit that he had a problem, or to even hint of his weakness. The way he acted, the way he carried on, every gesture and posture, was perfectly enacted in a way to suggest that he cared only to play along in this game, this play. The only thing he could not control was the drops of dried tears that formed at the edge of his eyes.

His life was either supremely admirable or utterly foolish. His dignity was either the only thing he had left, or the only thing keeping him from love. Existence was either a burden that he must begrudgingly accept, or a gift and a shadow of something much more real that was to come.

I could not shout loud enough for him to hear me.


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