If beauty never existed, then all would be equal. There would be no comparisons, just fair judgments. If everything was black and white, then there wouldn’t be contrast of colors. Just a slight distinction. If romantic love was just a feeling, nothing to be happy or sad about, just a feeling that makes you do nothing and feel nothing, then there wouldn’t be suicides, psycho stalkers, PDAs, love songs, depressions, break-ups, sex, and the likes. If everything wasn’t all about love, then what would it be about? Who would we be now?
If we could only choose a certain day to spend over and over again- like a lazy Wednesday morning where your mom yells at you and hits you with a pillow for you to get your ass up and do something helpful, like your 13th birthday where you had a nice party at the amusement park and everyone you love was there, like when you went up on stage and got your diploma and your mom was really proud of you, her shirt were all soaked up with tears that you cant forget that precious look on her face- a day that made you really happy, a day wherein every second you’ll never get tired of repeating. If we could only spend that day till eternity, then everything will be just fine, then we wouldn’t be afraid of death, failures, disappointments and all that. Everyday will just be a happy day, no fear of dying, of losing, of loneliness, of failing.
What if our lives were taped and we have the choice to erase the parts we hated, or to repeat a particular scene we loved, wouldn’t that be great? Truth is, we make our own choices, but we only have limited options. It’s either this or that, but you can’t want both.
Sometimes I wonder, if I die, will I ever get to see my mother again? Or will I ever get to watch from above who’s weeping for me or who’s not? Will I ever meet God or Satan? Or will I just linger around sad places where people can’t see or feel me? Fact is, I’m not really afraid of death, whether it’ll be brutal or boring. I’m just afraid of life after it, because I’m not sure if there is. And I’m more afraid of the fact that eventually, the only person I love so much will die, because for me, the scary part about it is being “really” alone, losing the only thing I live for, not knowing what to do without her, not knowing if I can still go on, and I’m afraid that I can never move on if that happens. I will never be ready for that, not 20 or 30 or 80 years from now. And I just hate the fact that I’m thinking about it because I shouldn’t be. Coz it wouldn’t happen. It shouldn’t happen. I won’t let it.
I’m 20 but I still sleep on my mother’s bed. Everynight I lay on her chest and listen to her heartbeat. Her annoying snore is like a dose of a sleeping pill, that everytime I hear, means I’m going to have a wonderful sleep.
I know, cheesy entry, but true. Happy birthday!