I think life after death is bullshit. I started to believe that when we die, every single thing turns into a full black vision, and then we do not exist anymore. Perhaps, deep down, everyone knows it, and that’s the reason why the saddest part of us created the illusion of reincarnation and the afterlife. I realized that’s it. We don’t know why. We can’t understand non-existence. At some level, we can’t accept the non-existence. It can turn our lives into dirt, without a real, meaningful resolution or alternatives, leaving us with just an empty void.
All of this crossed my broken mind while I was under the influence of two benzo pills, which I had to because I was in an episode of anxiety that I couldn’t understand why, because you know that I drink decaf coffee, and there was no reason at all for that. Right? But then, holy shit, it dawned on me! It’s the simple, objective, and cruelest truth that your non-existence in my life was inconceivable to my brain. The natural human difficulty of accepting the fact that something can exist and then just be gone, as easily as it is.
As days go by, for a few moments, I wanted you to continue existing in my life after all. You don’t know that, but I was feeling the looping idea that we like each other, we could understand, resolve, forgive ourselves, and stay together. I’ve shown you the worst part of me, youq know that, and I got to know a different version of you, and you know that either. ‘’We like each other’’, I said to myself, ‘’...and it’s enough’’. But right now, looking at the ceiling of my bedroom where we used to have beautiful and passionate memories, feeling the meds finally doing their job and reducing my pain, I realize it wasn’t enough. We all need compromise, harmony, collaboration, and agreements to work it out. It won’t be perfect, and sometimes it will exist detachment, discord, conflict, and even disrespect. The only thing I'm sure about humanity is that we are wrong most of the time. It's an endless contradiction. However, the desire to understand, resolve, to build and tear down, the willingness to do must live. We didn’t.
You hurt me, and I hurt you. We are two broken souls who found each other. When that happens once in a while, it seems to be a bad chemical combination that may explode. I truly feel that I discovered you at the right time, but at the wrong moment. I need to pursue the cure of things that aren’t about you, and I know you need to do the same thing. In the end, we are not so different, as you said we were.
The most cliché life knowledge is that time is relative. Everyone knows it. Maybe two months is too little, maybe it’s too much. Maybe it’s fast, maybe it’s slow. Maybe it’s enough, or maybe it isn’t. It was too short for me to feel this much for you, just like you said. But, on the other hand, two months is far too long to let this go by without you knowing how deeply sorry I am for hurting you. Too long to let something take root in your mind, growing into doubts about what you meant to me. I adored you. I still do. And I didn’t want everything to end the way it happened.
I wish you well, and that you find a love that is everything you need - a love that stands by your side, not against you. You deserve to be loved, cared of, understood, and most of all, truly seen.