"So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss, and my heart turns violently inside of my chest. I don't have time to maintain these regrets, when I think about the way he loves us."The theme of my blog is about life, and tonight I am writing about a life that has already been lived, used up, and virtually washed away. This is mostly going to be hypothetical (for those of you who want to know the real definition of hypothetical: supposed but not necessarily real or true. ) but brutally honest just the same.
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Here's to not growing old...
To fill in whoever is reading this letter, you know I am not breathing and haven't been living for a long time. I left this letter for whoever wants to learn from a mistake and create a new dimension of time that makes years limitless without being drawn out.
Dear Self,
It has been 74 years. You have seen many things, and the highlight of your life happened when you were 17. What have you been doing with the last 67? All you can remember now is some song about a sloppy wet kiss, but you have nothing to show for anything. You have lived your life through fantasies, can't you see there is nobody? You spent your last hours in a rocking chair, waiting patiently for that moment you can't take back. You chose adventure over life, and who are you, to fool me, that life was suppose to be that adventure? You were suppose to travel the world, be someone, change something, do small things with great love, but you could never get over that day that changed everything, that turned everything upside down, that moment when you realized there was nothing greater than.. Well, let's not talk about this so soon; you and I both know it happened. I want to say thank you first before I get upset. I want to say thank you for giving up. Giving up your life so that the world would be a better place without a vegetable. You had enough sense, I didn't or else I wouldn't be the one writing this letter to you. I am the one surviving, prospering over your sacrifice, the normal one because you gave up, I gave in. I bought my share into the average life everyone in the country you said was no good. I did the one thing you hated. I got a job, and it went downhill for the both of us, living in a one room apartment in a city away from the earth, the air, and the falls. Pushing papers and going no where for years and years. Thankfully I learned and have but a small ounce of your creativity and tried to come back, to revive you, to relive the life you wanted, we needed. I pleaded for a rescue, I searched for a cure, and desperately clinged to a thin thread of hope, but deep down I knew it was already too late. Because I am 74 years old and you never told him, and he would never know because you gave up. Why did you have to give up on happiness? The only one you had ever truly loved, and he will never know. How could he? You never told him. My mistake was that I let you die without shedding a tear, and it was our funeral, my dear. Everyone dressed in black, everyone you knew would never come back. Therefore after all these years I am giving up and tonight I am letting you go, and my last words to you are I loved you, more than you will ever know...
Love,
Clara Jane
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