Chapter 1 The Silent Struggle

How much anguish can one endure before the heart cries out, “I can’t bear it any longer”? It often feels as though I am adrift in a vast, unending sea of sorrow, where the light above is visible, yet I lack the strength to swim toward it. My limbs feel weighted down, and I begin to sink deeper into the depths. Though the instinct to call for help exists, my voice remains silent. I find myself ensnared in this choking, dark environment that is both oppressive and oddly familiar.

As I descend further, a strange comfort envelops me. Is it peculiar that sorrow can feel like home? It hasn’t always been this way. Initially, the pain felt alien, but after holding it in for so long, I have come to know it intimately. This sadness, which once seemed foreign, has become a worn blanket—damaged but undeniably mine. It’s a comfort I turn to when I’m weary of the fight.

I am aware that I am submerged, and I recognize this isn’t right. However, after spending so much time in this ocean, recalling the sensation of air above becomes challenging. You cease to struggle and abandon the quest for the surface—not because you don’t desire to breathe, but because residing in sorrow feels easier than battling to escape.

But why does this sorrow feel like a sanctuary?

I believe this reflects the pain I have harbored deep within, buried beneath layers of silence and forced smiles. When pain is allowed to remain hidden for too long, it festers. Unbeknownst to me, I have constructed a world around it, a world where sadness takes root and becomes cozy within my heart. Gradually, I become accustomed to this burden, mistaking the ache for comfort, for something familiar, despite it threatening to suffocate me.

Remaining in this position is deceptively simple; no one expects anything from you here. No one tells you to “get over it.” There’s no need for pretense; you merely exist within your sorrow, and it oddly feels sufficient. But is it truly?

In truth, I have conditioned my emotions to the point that this sea of sorrow feels like familiar territory—but it’s a territory where I cannot thrive. It’s a refuge, yes, but one that offers no growth or healing. As comforting as it seems, I know that remaining here will only lead to further despair.

I must find a way to rise, even if it feels awkward. Even as my body has grown accustomed to the weight of the water and the light above appears distant, I need to ascend.

This journey won’t be straightforward. Nothing about breaking free from this ocean of pain is simple. I must remind myself that comfort does not always equate to safety, and familiarity isn’t inherently beneficial. The sorrow feels like home because I have allowed it to be so, but that doesn’t mean it is where I am destined to remain.

So, I choose to swim upwards, seeking my voice, however faint it may be initially. I will cry out for help when necessary, fully aware that there are people who wish to rescue me from this ocean, despite my reluctance to let them in.

It’s time to embrace discomfort, to break the surface, to breathe again, even if the path is painful. Because, in reality, sorrow should never become home.

Sorrow may visit, but it should never linger. I refuse to drown any longer.

It is time to embrace life, to leave this ocean behind, and to seek new shores where hope and healing can take root.

Chapter 2 Finding Hope and Healing

This video, "Ocean of Sorrow," captures the essence of grappling with deep emotional pain and the journey toward healing. It visually represents the struggle and the quiet battle that many face.

The second video, "OCEAN OF SORROW - Mystery Of Winter (2005) Full Album Official," delves into themes of despair and the search for solace, resonating with those who have felt lost in their own emotional depths.