Death is Disgusting

It’s been wandering a lot lately. I say it’s fucking disgusting. I can almost feel my bones teetering against each other as if there are thousands of chalks and boards squealing and meaning to make you wince. I can feel it almost everyday, only it isn’t me.

We’re like millions of candles lit up. We’re all standing tall until we melt altogether, until we became melted waxes, until we turn into our almost original being, only different. But there’s the wind—there’s always wind—that’ll most likely willing to end everything even if we aren’t all melted yet. And just like that, in a harsh slap of its breeze, our fire dies. It’s not fightable. Candles ain’t got hands to cover.

It’s disgusting.

But life isn’t fair. We all know that. And no one ever said that it should be. We can never figure out what’s what or when’s when, so we have all the rights to be upset. I don’t even know how to end this because it’s sad, it’s disgusting, and it makes me angry. Buti pa sa computer shop pwede ka mag-extend, at kung sakaling hindi, alam mo namang magsasara na ng 12am.

I just wish I know the right words even though I know there’s none. I wanna stop people from hurting even though I know I can’t. I do believe in God and His goodness but don’t tell me shit about being thankful because they’re with God because it wouldn’t change the fact that people die and people kill. It still makes people miserable. It’ll never make it any less painful. It’s fucking horrible that the only thing left to do is to hug each other as you all tremble in sorrow.

Death is horrible as it is. But death is a lot more disgusting if your wind is nothing but another candle.

 

For Christine’s Alex and to find justice for his death.

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