Beads of Blood.

What do they know?.

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You would think it hurts, It doesn’t. It’s a high, a relief when for a sweet second, you can point out the direction of the pain in real time, you can have an active reason to feel. They always say it incredulously as if who would want to feel the pain.

I smile to myself, what do they know.

Finally, I’m in control, I can determine myself what I want to feel, how I want to feel and for a freeing moment; I’m me.

As the drops of crimson appear, I’m laughing.

I’m laughing because I can finally see you again.

I’m laughing because this is one thing that I get to keep.

I’m laughing because these beads of shared blood and your voice in my head covers all my senses until all I can see and feel and hear, is you.

It’s madness and I’m laughing because this madness is mine and no one can take me from me.

.Multiverse.

 

Michelangelo PietaWhen someone we love dies, a part of us dies along with them but unlike the physical remains of that said person that we bury deep in the ground – unlike every other living thing that dies – we do not bury this part but rather, carry it with us, a constant bearing on our being for the rest of our lives.

In the 1890s, William James came up with the theory about “the multiverse”. Every once in a while, the dead part inside takes over the rest of our heart and makes us think about the hypothetical set of multiple universes comprising everything that can possibly exist simultaneously. Teasing the idea of an alternative life, a┬ádifferent fate. It spreads like darkness, snuffing the light out, making us question our entire existence, making us resemble our dear departed loved ones as best as we can; Turning us into a false rendition of corpses, dead in all sense but talking, breathing and in a manner of speaking, alive.

The darkness is tempting, a way to be close to the loved ones that have left us, a way to keep them alive by losing ourselves in their grief, losing ourselves with them. Some strong people though resist it, making its reign last only for some time, fighting with it every day, breathing life into the living corpse, a little more everyday using its battle within as a driving force to honour the people lost in the best way possible. Those people are few though and with good reason. The hardest part in the world is to let go of all the possibilities that could be and that is actually what is the worst. Waking up everyday and thinking about the future we were cheated of. The could have been’s.

when someone dies

So I think of William James’ theory; The entirety of space, time, matter and energy all happening at once in different timelines. Parallel universe with all the what ifs and the could have been’s. So let’s presume that idea is real. Then maybe, in those infinite universes is one, or more, where you stay. Maybe there is a universe out there, happening right now where we stay at home that day, where my last words to you don’t haunt me forever, where I don’t lose you. A universe in which, when I close my eyes at night, I’m not dreaming about what could be but rather as a normal person would, about outrageous fairytales and handsome princes without the sadness that exists in everything now, even the happy times.

Maybe that’s what I see. The flashes of our life in the multiverse. They are not simple dreams you see; They are scientific, anachronistic visions. After all, we shared a womb so what’s to say we don’t share flashes of life across universes. I wish you could see me in this one though. Miss you best friend.

Inevitability.

Why do people avoid talking about death?

I mean, its the most inevitable thing in life. Our journey towards death starts from the time we are conceived. Some of us live long enough to wait for its inevitability while most of the others are stunned by its appearance when it comes.

Its a curious thing, the death of a loved one. It makes you hyper aware of the things you failed to take notice of before, even while plunging you into numbness. Maybe if we talked about it, it wouldn’t hit us so hard and we wouldn’t be shattered on impact. We wouldn’t be so lost, crippling under the weight of the grief and the forced realization of the mirage life offers.

Why do people avoid talking about death?I mean its the most inevitable thing in life; I just figure they’d be better off embracing its reality than to ignore its existence altogether.

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