Status: because why not, ydg?
Empty Garden
one
“Do you believe in death?” she asked me one evening when we were thirteen while we watched the sun set over the ocean and the birds disappear in to the oil painting sky.
“People die all the time. What’s not to believe in?”
She said but what if they don’t. What if they’re just beginning a new life somewhere else, in this world or another. What if they are repeating their same life light years away where time is slowed and death hasn’t yet caught up with them there. What if life just means we are existing as is and death just means starting somewhere new.
I told her, “Quit with the deep thinking. Pseudo-philosophy’s not a good look on you.”
Over the next year she became so enamored with this idea, so obsessed with this impossible possibility, that on her fourteenth birthday she set herself on fire while the sun was setting in to the ocean and the birds disappeared in to the oil painting sky.
I hope she found what she was looking for.
“People die all the time. What’s not to believe in?”
She said but what if they don’t. What if they’re just beginning a new life somewhere else, in this world or another. What if they are repeating their same life light years away where time is slowed and death hasn’t yet caught up with them there. What if life just means we are existing as is and death just means starting somewhere new.
I told her, “Quit with the deep thinking. Pseudo-philosophy’s not a good look on you.”
Over the next year she became so enamored with this idea, so obsessed with this impossible possibility, that on her fourteenth birthday she set herself on fire while the sun was setting in to the ocean and the birds disappeared in to the oil painting sky.
I hope she found what she was looking for.