#existentialmusing

[y2kgothicbarbie]

The knowing

You probably thought that you'd break my heart; you probably thought that you'd make me cry. But it's okay…I swear, it's okay.

Because I know everything.

Everything.  

I know everything.

Everything. 

I think of our sister of sorrow, the keeper of pain and betrayal. She holds this pain with grace and beauty. She takes wound after wound, dagger after dagger. She delights in the pain because she understands that it makes her stronger. She is silently aware of all their wrongdoings. She allows it to exist in her space, a heavy blanket of darkness cast behind the horizon of her gaze. A single tear falls from her eye – a moment of weakness. She is overwhelmed by this sensation. It haunts her. The knowing haunts her. To pick from the tree of knowledge is to subject yourself to a life of torment and suffering. But what happens when we spot the fruit we must bear and do nothing? You let it fester and ferment until it rots and plunks down to your feet. Its rotted juices seep into your shoes and stick to your skin. Though you walk away committed to your ignorance, the juices of truth stick to you and the steps you take. These juices leave a trail in the dirt, showing others where you go to hide. You can’t hide now. You know, and now they know. 

[craneca]

[tipsytruths]

Evanescence

I can't help but let my mind wander into a maze of curious thoughts, wondering how the world would spin on without my footsteps stamping its surface. If I were to slip away, like a shadow melting into the dusk, how long would it be until they realized, until they noticed the absence of my laughter echoing in the corridors of their lives?

Would it take a day, a week, or a month for my vacant seat to catch their eye, for the hollow echo of my voice to resonate within their consciousness? Would they pause mid-sentence, suddenly struck by the silence that now fills the spaces where my stories used to dance, where my presence once painted the canvas of their everyday existence?

I ponder the moments that would unfold in my absence, the fleeting glances towards my empty seat, the unanswered texts left hanging in the digital void, the memories of shared moments gradually fading like an old photograph left out in the sun. Would they recall my face, my quirks, my idiosyncrasies, or would I become a ghostly figment, a whisper in the wind, a fragment of a bygone tale?

Would my vanishing be akin to a ripple in a vast ocean, or a jarring gap in the fabric of their universe? Would they speak of me in hushed tones, weaving stories to decipher my sudden departure? Or would I simply be a footnote in the ongoing saga of their lives, a passing character in the narrative of their collective memory?

As I toy with the idea of my own disappearance, I can't help but long for the reassurance that I am more than just a fleeting presence, more than a fleeting blip in the grand symphony of life. I wish to believe that my existence, however small it may seem, has woven itself into the hearts and minds of those around me, that my absence would leave an irreplaceable void, a testament to the connections forged in the intricate web of human experience.

But for now, I remain here, a silent spectator in the theater of my own musings, wondering about the fragility and resilience of the bonds that tie us together, the intricate threads that weave the fabric of our shared humanity.

I may never know the answer to the question that lingers in the back of my mind, but for now, I'll choose to be present, to be seen, and to leave my mark in the hearts of those who cross my path, for as long as I am here.