i just had two thoughts click into one and perhaps they’re morbid, but they bring me to a larger point.
I’ve been asking people about death a lot lately. not like what happens after we die, where do you think we go, why do people die when they die type of questions. no, those are too personal, too scary to even consider pushing past my lips. no, i’ve been talking to people about how they wish they’ll die. I’m not sure how it even comes up, and it says a great deal about the first friend it came up with that she went along with my ramblings, she answered as if it was normal but yesterday i was at a dinner, talking to another student from Salem, who I’d actually just met, and we started talking–I?–started talking about how I’d want to die and although she responded, when I looked up and truly saw her face for the first time…the look she gave me, that look. Just a flash but there it was. I stopped the conversation then but it wasn’t until now, when I saw something online, that I realized this pattern in my life, these reoccurring questions about death.
if you know me and have read the pages of my life-book, you could say these questions are natural now, and perhaps they are, but it just reminds me how little we see of each other. i can know somebody and hear their words but i might not know where those words really come from. and isn’t that scary? because what are we here for if not to learn from each other?
and they stop asking. nobody asks. even the people who know what has happened to me, to my family, how we have all shifted, they’re able to move on so they assume i am too. that’s the thing about aching hearts. nobody can see them so they don’t have to pretend to care.