A while ago, someone tried to convince me that it is okay for old people to die and those words were supposed to take away my sadness.
I think that life is cruel and this is unfair.
Blood is unfair.
Blood running through this veins and transporting oxygen to this brain, only to one day stop doing so is unfair.
Having skin is unfair.
Skin holding you together is unfair.
It is unfair to have yourself wrapped into something that will one day break and leak.
This one is about the very historical horror of living a life.
Very historical, because people have been doing so for a very long time and have eventually created something like history.
A horror, because it consists of blood and skin, of bones and nerves, and whatever may hurt.
Being alive hurts, because you feel it happening. Being alive started with your head tearing a vagina apart.
Some people say that is this fragility, or transience of life that makes it so precious.
But is it?
Does it make relationships so much more easy to always keep in mind that the clock is ticking and one mood swing could lead to you not saying goodbye to someone right before being hit by a bus or a clot in the brain taking over?
I don‘t think so.
I once was freshly in love with someone being diagnosed with cancer at the exact same time. We rushed into things and it pressured the hell out of us.
Maybe people are picturing this heartbreaking fact about life as something good because it helps them to cope. It is their right, but I might not be the best person to talk to, then.
I still think it is sad for old people to die. I still think it is a tragedy that the most heartwarming person I ever knew died alone after not having seen anyone without a mask for a year.
I once had a friend who could not get over the death of her mother. We were in our early 20s, so her mother was not very old, but a brain tumor had finally taken over.
This friend of mine dropped out of university to hide in her mother‘s bedroom and read fantasy novels all day. We tried to convince her to come back and to start living her own life. Sometimes, we even said things like „It is natural for parents to die at some point“ or „It‘s your turn to live now“.
I find those words heartbreaking by now.
It is not fair that parents put you into this world only to leave you one day with whatever you are stuck in.
I lost touch with that friend.
Life was too cruel for her to take.
I think that she still sits in her mother‘s bedroom and reads all day.
Life is cruel.
It starts with blood and traumatizing pain. It consists of fighting day after day to postpone decay, but never truly escaping it.
Never before have I made this connection to all the magical beliefs I have been reading about.
Eternal youth, bottling up souls … They show the very old desire of any sentient being to escape this horror of having a body and needing it to experience life and be close to those you love.
Witches were believe to know those secrets, and to trade them to you.
I never asked my witch for any of these. I just need her to numb the pain.
Mistress witch writes 