After a conversation that baffled me, I wrote this.

In those hours between dusk and dawn are the silent whispers of the wounded and the unheard cries of the dying.I was asked to make a choice, and it seemed fair until I realized that choices come at a price. This time though, I’ve seen too much of the truth to avoid the choice… but somewhere deep inside I know that lies give me more comfort than the truth ever will. And now I’m immersing myself in a choice of nothingness, because I was told that nothingness has no existence of its own. Papers towers made of words of love, of life, of reactions and equations, of lines of poetry and the human body pile up around me but there are so many other lines that no one reads between. Between, around or through. Because in every one of us is a “we”that we don’t speak of, and in every one of our story is a part where love and betrayal played hand-in-hand even though love comes in all sorts of definitions and we only choose to show some. I was told that looking at the mirror never shows the true self because it’s only just a reflection. And reflections are never the same. Nothing in the world, ever, is the same. And I know this because someone said “it’s a round world, with different people on it.” I made the choice to let you see what those whose names I don’t know usually do because it doesn’t have to be the same anymore. For a change, I chose to choose today and even though my life is just another story and I don’t know the ending yet, I’m writing it… because if the ending’s worth it, the beginning could change and there may be no story at all. I’m writing the story before it turns out that there was no story to tell at all. I’m imagining nothingness before I’d be asked to forget it again. I’m talking to you before I go back on my choices…
I’m watching the life of someone I knew flash past me, and I’m thinking how none of this mattered to me before it stopped doing so to you.


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