Some nights I cry out in agony from the imaginary scars left behind by the weight of the cross I bear on a daily basis. Some of the suffocating teachings from my religion have taught me to be emotionless - to suffer in silence because pain is only temporary.
I beg to differ.
I'm different. I slipped into this world on the heels of destiny with fate holding my right hand hostage just long enough so that it would be estranged to my left. There were some subtleties that were written elusively between the line that separates my first name from my last. I am not exactly who they said I am.
My back has always been strong. This part of my creation was purposeful. Because I wasn't Jesus carrying that cross. Though like him, I would inherit a world that hated me, loved me, felt indifferent toward me. Yet, my fate was more likened to Simon, the Cyrene. I have a cross of my own and yet I am constantly beckoned to assist in carrying the load of others.
I won't complain - yet.
I imagine this life to be an uphill experience, a dirt road where barefoot men, women, and children trample up the rocky side of a steep mountain. Each has a cross paraded on his/her back. Each cross is a different size, made of a different type of material, and varied writings are etched on the surface to give life and acknowledgement to each person's struggles. There are individuals however, who seem out of place. They carry two and three crosses at a time. And I weep for them.
And yet when I take a step back to see the entire landscape, my tears seem to have more reason. I see individuals on the sidelines taking breaks on the journey while select nomads bear the full load of their crosses in the interim. It looks almost like punishment and yet no one as much as gives notice to their staggering footsteps, broken posture, or sweat ridden bodies.
Correction. No one notices me.
I've been taught to help others - unfortunately at the expense of my own progress. False teachings that are outdated, enabling and unproductive. Who exactly saves Simon from his plight? No one. I'm not concerned with how fair life is. As I said, I'm different. I can deal with the cards I've been dealt. But I am frustrated at the idea that life may never present me with tools to alleviate myself from the load - even occasionally.
C'est la vie, some might say. Again, I disagree. If I'm stuck with the cards, I would like to at least know how to play the damned game.
As they went out, they came upon a man of Cyrene, Simon by name; this man they compelled to carry his cross. Jesus told his disciples, "If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. - Matthew 27:32; 16:24
