Divine Demise

September 16, 2014 at 9:51am

We mourn over our own death. We cannot expect people to cry for us, because we prepare our own death beds. We choose to always die. 

We die a thousand times. Millions even. And those times are all our choice. 
We choose to die over and over. So we can live and re-live life over and over again. 

I have died more than a million times for a single reason. I fell in love with my best friend. For moments I could not anymore count, I insist my feelings for her. And consistently during those times, she rejects. It was like dying. Again and again. But I had no choice. I had no choice but to die, so I can get up on my deathbed and face her with a little less pain. 

But dying couldn’t build us any longer. The moment we die, we lose a parcel of our being. And it does not regenerate when we live again. So when we walk after dying and living consecutively, a part of us is already missing. 

I have been walking as though I’m a sponge. Here and there I’ve holes. Because a thousand times, I’ve died. And for a thousand times, I lived again. And nothing was ever the same. 

When I want to feel better, I point fingers to the reason for the pain. I inserted her on that hole in my being, thinking she could repair it. Because she caused it.

But I was wrong. 

No amount of her love could make me whole again. No amount of kindness can retrieve what’s lost for so long. No reason for her to feel responsible for it. But I oblige her. I force her to fix me. To love me. 

It is something she’s not anymore part of. Because I had to put the pieces back. On my own. Not because I don’t need her, but because she isn’t supposed to. 

Maybe I wanna die again. 
Maybe I wanna hear people grieve over my corpse. 
Maybe I wanna die. 

But it may not be possible. For now I woke up as though I’m floating. No holes. But no whole parts either. Nothing but wind. Nothing but spirit. 

But I know. The spirit is careless. Is Free. Is Happy. Is Ready. The spirit is Loving. Is Living. 🙂