Torn to Pieces

Man has a tendency to go around in circles. He wastes time in doing that. Seven yesars later he finds himself exactly where he first started out to be.
What went wrong? What brought him back to stage one once more? Why again is he faced with the same circumstances over and over again? During the process, he dies a million deaths, to be reborn again. And he once more learns how to breathe.
Man is torn to pieces. He although apparently is ‘one’ to the eye on the outside. But he has parts of him that are laible and answerable to duty. To his conscience. To his desires of the heart. To his wishes that never get to be put on a list. Other than that everyone wants a piece of him. His parents, siblings, children, spouse, friends, his boss, his subordinates. Yet he keeps himself together knowing that he is in pieces.
A desire unfulfilled chips a piece off of him. A child takes another. The spouse takes many. His bucket full of duties takes more inches off him. Till the time he doesn’t recognise the person staring at him in the mirror. Till the time he no longer knows who he is. Perhaps that is why the world has been quoted to be a place of trial and procreation.
Everyone has to face trials, but not everyone gets to procreate, at least not biologically. Man is in pieces. And he has no idea who he is. He could better define himself when he was five than now when he is thirty-five. Maybe that is all the trial is about. Keeping it together when the inside is in a million shreds. Man then learns that he is lost. He doesnt know what to do or where to turn to for solace or guidance.
So he does what he ‘can’ or what he ‘ought’ to do and lets time decipher on its own who he is. So he finally learns that it was never upto him to decide who he was in the first place. Time alone passes the verdict. And perhaps then he might understand the reason behind all the trials and suffering. When the verdict tells him that he is now who he was meant to be.