Logic & Emotion

In the shadowy corners of the city, the downpour tapped steadily on the windows, as though attempting to break the obstruction between the rest of the world and within. The roads were splashed, however nobody focused, and the night appeared to conceal confidential, old and immaculate.

Inside a little condo, an individual sat alone, uncertain on the off chance that they were looking for something or running from it. The wall inverse them was covered with old photographs — faces, places, recollections — each making imperceptible imprints that couldn't be deleted. The current felt hazy, similar to a fantasy they hadn't completely woken from. Their psyche grappled with a consistent inquiry: "Is feeling truly worth the torment?"

The room was faint, lit exclusively by a slight light emission falling through the shades. They sat in a corner, somewhere out in dreamland, gazing at the space where the light met the murkiness. That space appeared to reflect their brain, got among rationale and feeling — two powers they had been staying away from as long as they can remember.

Each time they connected with somebody, it wasn't from affection, however maybe interest or a requirement for control. To them, love was a shortcoming, a hazardous power that could drag them into a pit they wouldn't get away. They dreaded each move toward affection as though it carried them more like an obscure void.

Somewhere down in thought, their telephone rang. The sound broke the quietness, hauling them out of their psychological whirlpool. They looked at the screen — an obscure number. Reluctant, they replied. "Hi?"

The voice on the opposite end was quiet however new. It talked delicately, yet its words conveyed a peculiar power. "I realize you're terrified," the voice said, "yet not every person who connects needs to cover you more profound in the obscurity. Some of the time, we want to trust."

Recollections started to flood their brain — faces they had attempted to neglect, minutes that fabricated walls around their heart. A little piece of them, long covered, blended. The voice kept, opening entryways inside them they thought had been fixed closed.

"You've lived in rationale your entire life, keeping away from feeling like an illness," the voice proceeded. "Presently, you stand at a decision: remain in the obscurity, or connect and allow love to maneuver you into the light."

They stood, moving gradually toward the window. The downpour poured down, washing over the roads and their considerations the same. Without precedent for years, falling into feeling didn't appear to be so startling.

"Who are you?" they asked unobtrusively, not actually anticipating a response.

"I'm a piece of you," the voice answered. "The part that actually has faith in light, even in the haziest minutes."

Disarray held them, however where it counts, they realized the voice was correct. This wasn't simply one more individual attempting to get through their disengagement. It was something more profound, an impression of the sentiments they had locked away.

"Why now?" they asked, gazing out at the dull city, the downpour actually pouring.

"Since currently, you're prepared," the voice said. "You've kept away from feeling for such a long time, yet presently, now is the ideal time to confront it. You can either fall into the haziness you've been running from, or let love lift you out."

They got back to their seat, attempting to track down strength. "How might I trust something I have zero control over?" they murmured.

"Control is a deception," the voice replied. "Your thought process is rationale is a chain, keeping you from genuinely living. Life is about balance, not control. Love isn't something to control — something moves through you. At the point when that's what you comprehend, you'll discover a genuine sense of reconciliation."

Shutting their eyes, they attempted to assimilate these words. They needed to dismiss everything, to drive the voice away, however something inside them moved. A sensation of softness started to ascend, as though they had at long last found what they had been looking for from the beginning.

"Furthermore, in the event that I fall?" they asked, their voice scarcely a murmur.

"You will fall," the voice said delicately, "yet not to be broken. To be lifted once more. Since affection, similar to torment, doesn't end with the fall. It starts with it."

As the downpour eased back, the mists separated, uncovering a reasonable sky without precedent for an extended period of time.