Life molds you into a shapeshifting mess.
One stumbles through different tribulations, and the soul diversifies as the years pass.
You turn into different versions of yourself.
It’s like treading through hell, but you taste heaven at the same time.
It’s not a choice, it’s a requirement.
Its like drinking liquid gold. The concept is luxurious, but it kills you so deliberately.
A beautiful solemnity?
Emotions so immense.
It hurts so much to breathe, to exist, yet you need to stay, you stay because of love. We suffer to exert empathy. Love is the cutlass that impales deeply.
It cuts far, it makes you bleed profusely, but it feels so good.
It just feels so good.
Is there a point to it all in the very end?
Happiness seems temporary. Chasing it is like the drop you feel when the veil is pulled from under your foundation; long, scary.
Happiness is the rarest paragon.
The heart, heavy and the mind, full.
Wondering day after day.
Who will understand me, touch me, sense me.
Wonder, keep wondering.
Wonder possesses you.
Wonder keeps watching you.
Wonder doesn’t let go, it comes to watch you die.
That’s the why, that’s the death.
Life will never give you an answer.
