Sometimes we are worth more to someone dead than we were alive. Our liveliness embarks those whose life we share on an apathetic journey of complacency. Our mindless obsession with normalcy sparks response to only those events which do not fall into conveniently labeled columns. So as one might expect, if you really want to be heard, if you really want your little acts of kindness to be noticed then you will perform them in a manner not parallel to lines of expectation. Therefore, it would seem to follow that death and not life is what brings people together and sparks love. We love unconditionally; so says past testament and the lark. But i beg to differ. If unconditional love exists, then how can our guarded, cobblestoned walls exist? How can shrouds of paranoia conceive a love for one another when we grasp our own hearts with an impossibly tight clutch? This world; eternally trapped by itself.
Posted on: Mon, 26 Aug 2013 23:49:02 +0000
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