I remember how I use to write about our conversations; telling the world of what we discussed throughout the day but now our conversations deepened and if I chose to share them with the world, the world may not relate because we’ve become so different.
I asked him if I should go shopping or stay in because it’s going to be a rainy day, he told me to go anyway, to “enjoy myself”. Half of me wanted him to say, “stay, rest, be safe inside” but he didn’t, instead he told me to “enjoy myself, go, live without thinking of me”. If I go, I won’t “enjoy” going, only the idea of him wanting me to be happy, having fun, just simply not thinking about what I have to do to stay entertained without him.
All of these words are thoughts compiled in the spaces in my brain, everything slowly unraveling itself without preposition. I just wish everything was easy to understand. Sometime I wish all that was meant for me to do in this world was already done in a past life, only set out for me to trace over carefully.
Life isn’t like that. I know.
Seems to me like my trait of understanding fought with reality and realized nothing is truly how it seemed, nothing is fully understood, nothing can ever be concluded and condemned as “done”.
What is life after death?
People see death as an escape, a route in which they rest in peace forever but what truly lies in the creases of death? He told me that to truly know, we’d have to die but if we took it upon ourselves to commit suicide the rules and guidelines of Christianity forbid a happy ending. Is that true? What is real? What is the answer to a question that was questioned without an answer? What do we truly know and understand other than what was told and understood from what we knew? What is the answer? What is an answer, the truth or opinion? Who provides answers, conceives answers, produces answers to those who receive answers to speak answers to us? What do we truly believe in? Who do we truly believe in, the words of man or a spirit spoken from the unknown into man’s mouth?
Questions. Unanswered questions.
If I were to tell you what our conversations consist of lately, you’d think we’re mad. Truth is, I rather converse with him than waste time conversing with someone who can’t answer why they love me.