How broken must Franz Kafka be when he said, "I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself."

Explaining your thoughts is explaining yourself, and the more often it happens, the more difficult it becomes. People start to judge you being open about your feelings and then they conclude on what they see from their glasses of judgment.

I was a boy, a young cheerful boy who needed to explain his desires and then time flew by I am a teenager now I have to explain my actions and here I sit reading Kafka trying to explain my understanding how paradoxical life is.

But being broken is a reality for everyone somebody has broken wings and they can't fly somebody has broken legs and they can't run and then there are souls who have broken hearts which never mend and it's not a limitation it's the end of explanation because a soul without heart is nothing but darkness.

One can only value light when darkness is an experience once this, happens it's too late to be alive again to mend that broken house of glass.

It becomes harder to explain!!