1
Something has to die here, but it couldn’t be me. That’d be stupid, wouldn’t it? Many have tried to kill themselves, it doesn’t work. But still, something must die here, on spot, reasonably soon. Here is where the sentence gets punctuated, the story gets a twist, and the protagonist disappears and returns a different person. No, the grief comes afterwards, for the death must come first, and it must be a public death. There shall be no secret in a sacrifice. Hold on, it sounds like sobbing. Ah it’s you, why all the tears? Your eyes are so strained from pumping out H2O which runs down your cheek like mountain streams. Your speaking voice taken away from you. You can only hiss and whimper and maybe attempt to scream. I understand, you are emotional. We all have emotions. We all have colors. It’s just that your performance is too rich for an empty story. You have no idea what pain is. We haven’t even decided who is to die yet.
Before our target picked, before we strike out every name on the list down to the last one, we have something to settle first, with our spectators. Tonight there are only three parties on our humble stage.
2
Medieval European chanting fills up my tired bedroom at the end of winter, 2022. It almost serves as a protective layer to my flesh-made mind, like a mucous, secreted automatically when my brain dries out. At times like this I allow myself to wonder if I can believe in God the way they do. I have to believe in something if I live in a world that I don’t believe in. However God is so much of a worldly creation, especially the worshiping of God, that I can’t really make its image stick even in my imagination. Today is one of those days in my life that I have to chew through. Today I cried a lot and was looking out at the window for hours without noticing. Today I talked and talked until my body cannot churn out another word, or another drop of emotion. Today I started the day the way I am going to end it, which is soon. I hope that with all this pain, I have learnt something, to make tomorrow a slightly different day, and the day after. I have no confidence. The worst type of punishment is not knowing when the punishment will end, or whether it’s intended as punishment at all. Maybe it’s just mindless suffering.
