🏠 Lego House

힘들어도 안 힘든 척

아파도 안 아픈 척

그렇게 계속 창고 살다 보니,

겉은 멀쩡해 보이는데 

속은 엉망진창으로 망가지고 있는 것 같은 기분

- 김토끼 -

Translation:

(Acting as if I am not tired, when I am

Acting as if I am not in pain, when I am

After living all those years with suppression, 

I look fine on the outside, 

but it feels as if I am starting to break into pieces inside)

I have heard the above quote when Hara posted on her social media account.

It just hit me in the feels, that everyone is breaking at some point. Some of us hide it better than others, making people think that "Hey, you are acting usual, just like yourself". Maybe we just don't want others to worry. Maybe we just do not like when the attention is on us. Maybe we feel that others can handle it and go on with life, we could too. 

Sometimes, I don't even know if I am breaking or picking up the pieces. Which part of life am I suppose to be on? My hands are getting filled with the pieces that I have picked up, pieces that I don't know where it belongs to. Are they mine? Or am I just blindly doing things for the sake of being useful when I am still alive?

Over last week, I heard the song Lego House, by Ed Sheeran. His lyrics in the song just struck a chord with me. Playing with Lego is a childhood memory to me. It has always been fun piecing them together to form shapes from our dreams, building relationships with my siblings over Lego. However, as children we didn't really focus on the fragility of them. Once fallen, bricks with  come loose. Step on them, and they hurt a lot.

I am going to continue picking up the pieces, 

To built a Lego house.

Brick by brick and piece by piece, 

I childishly stacked them up,

Making a feeble attempt to patch myself up.

One wall of the brittle Lego house is already done.

Just a wall, with no doors and windows.

A wall of colourful plastic bricks,

Giving me a fake sense of security,

For one push is all it takes for it to crumble.

Will it be able to shelter me from the storms that are raging?

Barricading me from the howling winds.

Or will it cast long dreary shadows,

With impenetrable darkness,

Even the lighting has failed to lit.

When someone comes along, 

Would they help to build the unfinished walls of the house?

For it isn't a house with just one wall.

Or wasting the timorous effort of mine,

By tearing it down to come face to face with me?