The Contract with Earth

I have spent so much of my life

trying to understand why being alive

could feel this heavy

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Not heavy in the poetic way people speak about sadness

when they want to sound beautiful,

but heavy in the way wet clothes cling to the body,

heavy in the way exhaustion sits behind the eyes,

heavy in the way some mornings arrive

already bruised

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There were years

when I did not want to continue here.

Years when I spoke silently to the ceiling,

to the dark,

to whatever force watches human beings

crawl through their lessons

.

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I begged for understanding.

Not wealth.

Not miracles.

Not revenge for what hurt me.

Only understanding

.

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I wanted to know why suffering seemed to follow me

like something loyal,

like something assigned

.

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Sometimes I would look at other people

and wonder how they carried themselves so lightly.

How they laughed without guilt.

How they moved through the world

without always searching for the nearest exit

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And yes, I know there are people

who have suffered more than me.

But pain is not a competition.

A drowning person does not become less desperate

because the ocean is deeper somewhere else

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I can only speak from inside my own body.

Inside my own nights.

Inside my own mind

that has spent so long

trying to survive itself

.

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Somewhere along the way

I began to feel that this place is not entirely home.

That maybe we come here from somewhere else,

somewhere softer,

somewhere wiser,

and earth is the difficult crossing

.

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A school.

A prison.

A test of memory.

A place where souls arrive

to be broken open into something greater

.

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Sometimes I imagine we volunteered for this.

That before we were born

we stood before a doorway

and agreed to forget who we were

so we could learn what cannot be taught in peace

.

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Loss.

Longing.

Mercy.

Endurance.

The terrible strength required

to remain gentle in a brutal world

.

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Maybe suffering is a kind of currency here.

Maybe every heartbreak leaves a mark

like stripes earned in a war no one remembers joining.

Maybe every survival

is another certificate stamped by existence itself

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But I am tired.

I say that without shame now.

I am tired of lessons that arrive as disasters.

Tired of growing through pain.

Tired of becoming wiser only after being shattered

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Sometimes I feel I have fulfilled enough of this contract already.

Sometimes I want to place my suffering on a table

and ask the universe,

“Have I not learned enough yet?”

,

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Because I do not dream only of escape.

I dream of staying.

That is the strange thing.

I want to live.

I want years here.

Long years.

Beautiful years

.

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I want mornings that do not begin with fear.

I want laughter that reaches all the way into my stomach.

I want love that does not wound me for existing.

I want to walk through life

without constantly preparing for loss.

I want softness without suspicion.

I want rest

that does not need to be earned.

I want the version of life

I used to think belonged only to other people

.

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And I do not think that is too much to ask anymore.

I think I have suffered enough

to stop apologizing for wanting joy

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So if there is something beyond me listening,

if there is wisdom hidden inside all this pain,

then help me now.

Not just to endure.

I already know how to endure

.

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Help me to live.

Help me move through the remaining storms

with dignity still intact.

Help me recognize the right doors

when they appear.

Help me stop mistaking survival

for the highest form of existence

.

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And if this truly is a school,

if this world is a place we pass through

to become something larger than grief,

then let the next lesson be gentleness.

Let the next chapter contain sunlight.

Let me arrive at happiness

without first being destroyed to deserve it.

I have carried enough

.

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Now I want to see

what becomes of a soul

when it is finally allowed

to breathe.