Perhaps in Suffering one does find Himself.

      There are sorrows in this world which we haven't touched yet let alone the thought of living them. Out there exists pain that are far ahead of what we can endure. Pain has some unexplored facets that are beyond our comprehension. There are unfathomable sufferings that we can't even imagine to suffer in our life time. Once you feel how sorrows have damaged a person you'll realize maybe you're not as broken as you might think you are. Every second person is in torment for something he can't control and he endures it in solitude. Every second one of us holds a universe of pain inside their skull and rib-cage. When he dies the universe succumbs along with him.  The pleading gaze wander like a beggar who gets no alms and is starved to death. His eyelids grow tired of seeking rescue and in the end the gaze is shut. Even his heart gets tired of beating when his organs feel they are a bunch of wage workers whose payments are always postponed for the next day. Nobody stands for his rescue. His hopeless life ends and the only moment he is helped is when his soul less body needs cremation. They say empty handed we come and empty handed we depart. But what is the fate of all those 'Questions' and 'Pains'? Do they bury it too ? The  Questions remain suppressed and the Pains never get utterance. 

       Society is not going to miss you if you are out and gone. Few people will shed tears but for how long? Tears are not oceans but they are like downpour, even if it brings flood it cannot keep the sun rays hindered for long. You become a wound in some people's life but the wound will heal and the scar will fade out eventually. You'll be gone into oblivion as if your presence wasn't necessary all along. Can you accept that you are alone ? We are a herd of strangers always claiming that we know each other. Ooh, how less is known. The suffering is the price we have settled for in return of our survival. So in the end lamenting holds no meaning. We don't choose pain nor is the suffering. It is something that is always thrust upon us. Maybe suffering is what life is; perhaps in suffering one does find himself.