Wednesday, 23 November 2011

My fake reality.

I don't want to know that people die. That people fade away. I don't want to realize that people can be forgotten or that there's a possibility that someone will never be seen again. Ever. That you can't come back to me once you're gone. Gone in the sense of having died. I don't want to be mortal. I don't want to stop living, because what is there left to live for when I can't live anymore? How can life be so cruel when it's meant to be kind. I don't even know why one must let people die. And then when I do, how am I supposed to decide about what happens afterwards? Do I want to get eaten by little, disgusting, creepy crawlies? Or do I want to be shoved into an oven and burnt to ashes? How cruel is it to let people choose between the two! One must not think about these things, and yet one is forced to, unwillingly.

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