Leave a comment


Life! What a cruel bastard ye can be! Bitch! Did ye conspire with the fates to take my old friend? Or with the devil to plant seeds of destruction in his suffering soul?

Questions that can be answered neither by Scientists nor Philosophers. Neither by clergy nor the layman. For none can see into another’s soul to feel their anguish, to understand their purgatory, to experience their personal hell.

How deep the despair that would drive one to end life at one’s own hand. I’ve experienced misery but never enough to send me over the edge. Why one but not the other? Why him but not me? Is anyone more deserving than another? What is the essence that saves one but loses another?

My body was primed for the grave, artery blocked. Still, I breathe the sweet air, still, I swim in the ocean of living humanity.

There is abundant life all around me, people smiling, talking, laughing, at least one, me, crying on the inside. How many of them are at the precipice, looking over, about to jump in? How many, except for a kind ear, would not have the strength to pull themselves away? How many need one more dose of sadness to propel them into the void?

Ye Bastard! You arranged the elements of improbability and breathed life into his heart four-plus decades ago, continued pouring into his lungs religiously over the span of his life. Why not arrange fate to save him now? Why not cause the car to malfunction before the deed was finished? Why not deliver him into the hands of his neighbor?

Because you are an uncaring bitch?

Reality can seem cruel to we humans believing we have a right to joy, expecting happiness for our lives. But joy, happiness, purpose are human myths. Nature does not bend to the petty desires of humanity, is not swayed by rights we imagined into existence. Life, liberty, all created equal, the pursuit of happiness? It’s all bullshit in nature’s eyes.

I can’t help but wonder if our group, formed at vulnerable times in our lives, but now loosely affiliated, existed to prevent this event. Were we as one to change destiny? Postpone destiny? Or to be witness to this destiny?

Where are the answers hidden? What is the meaning? Is there meaning? Does anything mean anything or are all things no thing? Nothing? Is the purpose of this passing to awake our, the once close friends, hearts?

I want to believe we matter, believe everyone matters. Is that because I am so mired in the myths of humanity having purpose that I am blind to truth? If my truths are not the same as yours, is there objective truth? Is there truth? If not, do lies exist?

Is my angst God knocking at my heart’s door? God’s call to awaken a heart so calloused by life that it’s beating is imaginary?

Questions without answers. Answers without questions. Life devoid of purpose, devoid of meaning. Why did death pass over me and not him? Why me? Why not me? Why?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Atoms of Thought

Essays on travel, identity, literature, and philosophy.


by Evelina Di Lauro


Because life is too overrated to ignore

Milly Schmidt

The Cat's Write


"My words are my identity"

she's a seeker

Currently, NYC

Inside my cellar

Watch closely as an author thoughts unveil truths through a vision that was once mere premonition. Thoughts From A balcony inside the minds of the intuitive


Vintage Style and Modern Tailoring

Wolff Poetry | Poetry, Tools & Resources for Self-Publishing Writers

Wolff Poetry offers poetry, and tips that make writing & self-publishing easier. Linda J. Wolff mentors young writers.

Heartstring Eulogies

Conjured by Sarah Doughty

Srijana Kattel

Ramblings of an empty mind

Travelling around the world

Traveller, photography


All images © I-Shan Lin



leaf and twig

where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry

Lipstick on a Pig

The Sartorial Explorations of a Middle Aged Man

%d bloggers like this: