What happens after death?
Well, I’m not really talking about immortality. That case doesn’t really apply to mortals like me which are typically “intoxicated”.
I’ve been thinking of death more than just a few times this week. No, not the suicide thing like wrist cuts and loops dangling from a nail peg in the ceiling. It’s probably more like being alive yet cold and indifferent to the world.
I may feel that way right now - completely dazed. My mind was wandering back to the beach moments when he would just sit beside me on the dock…silent. Yet listening. It’s not like I expected things to turn around just so I would find myself sitting beside him, holding his hand. I’m not much of a romantic. I can’t even probably call it love.
My eyes are still clouded with tears after the reality hit me. He had changed. My face burns at that actual thought that I had been careless enough to not notice the gaps as we went on. I’m drifting farther and farther away from him because I had allowed it.
If this is supposed to be death, then I’m leading myself down into it. I’m not happy. Is this the feeling of being intoxicated? Like you don’t care what comes out of your thoughts and your words? Like you don’t want to put yourselves in situations that would lick you entirely to let people know what you’re really made of? Like showing them you’re too weak to fight on?
death just comes.
Maybe, not like the way you expected it to be, but it’s there. It’s coming. Reality struck me. I had to leave the only angel I had truly loved to go on with my passions.
The passions must really be intoxicating me. Either way, I had to choose. Should I, or should I not let go?
This makes no sense. I should stop right here.
