Waiting for me at the table, but ain’t that easy.
Always these conditions my friend. Why can’t we play a game or talk about something fun for once?
Always I have to do something for you, just to hear that it was all wrong.
Having fun death? I guess you just want it to end as much as me. Maybe I have to give you a hand, maybe I have to offer you my life for good, but you don’t want it, right?
You want me to stay, you want me to do something for you and I know I can’t do it. So you might take me sooner then you want?
If death depends on me and I depend on death, the worlds keeps spinning. But does it because of it or just still until some point?
Maybe I actually have speak a few, with whoever wants a talk on deaths garden door. Death, God or just my soul, waiting for me to move on. To leave this forsaken world. But I know it is only forsaken because those like me weren’t strong enough yet. Or maybe because I was not really helping.
I am probably selling myself to high in again, but death doesn’t care that much. A soul is a soul.
If the whole world would actually depend on me, we are all lost.
So I guess I can’t be that important, right?
I mean, without me the world is darker, but when I am also painting it even darker, so what’s the point.
The hope I give, just to erase it again.
The love I share, just to break it again.
The life I found, just to hate it again.
I had it all, wanted to forget. I forgot, found again. Hated it and forgot again.
So now what?
Could I make God and the devil make peace. Could I save all who suffer, just by giving myself the most painful experience ever without actively hurting or harming anyone else but me. I take it.
What do I have to loose.
I already suffered similar. Why not more?
And then I wasn’t the one. Just a noone, not even that good anymore.
A good one who got broken and done with it all.
Maybe death doesn’t want me because I am worth nothing but dust, so he takes those who are worth more then just a penny.
I know its not right. But would it be the truth, I wouldn’t care so much.
I have seen too much, felt too much, known too much for so long now.
If I would know that I had a bigger purpose, okay, show me.
But I already saw it, but maybe it was just a wish, just a want to be.
So when I am just one of a million. Maybe the million gets hurt when I leave. For sure. But they will live on and find something new.
If death would only mean to not exist anymore, it might actually be too kind for me. I should at least suffer for some more years before it ends, so that there is no hope left.
But then there is nothing again and I am just gone. While I don’t think there is nothing, but then it only makes it more painful.
I am beyond all the things and yet I am bound to them. Like death is bound to Lucifer in the story of the series, I am bound to death as my fellow friend. Showing me that I can’t be whatever I want. Be it nothing, be free. Be it joyful, be it me. Only something next to the road, a wanderer, a seeker who found, but wanted to get lost anyways.
I know there is more to it all. As I said, I know too much.
The words I write only show one of many sides. Even those who show multiple perspectives. But what does it help? In the end I will end up as a burden for the people around me, no matter what. The people don’t know how to help me because they can’t. So whatever they do most likely ends up making it worse. And like before, I know that I can win every fight, but also like before, why should I fight? If each time I get told, that what I am fighting for is not worth it. That what I am doing is wrong.
Maybe it is, maybe it is not. I know that I want the right thing. But when I get told my others that it is not my task. That my part is to work like the others, to do things people do. And that I first have to show it all before they believe me, but I can’t show what only can be seen when open or when it finally is there to see for everyone.
So I ask death for help again. I can of course ask Jesus as well, but when I hate what I am doing, why should I ask for love?
I know myself that I am doing wrong right now. I know myself that this ain’t helping me. But I also know, that always just fighting is also not worth it.
If the things I am fighting for are only in my head or true for some people, maybe I should give up the fight. And I know it is wrong. I know it won’t help. But what if there actually is only nothing after I die? It would be so peaceful, so kind. Just nothing, all gone, no more, no me. Whatever there is, I know that there is so much more to life most people don’t see. Some of you who read have seen it or parts of it.
But why am I here, if I am only a small piece of junk. Junk which loves what good, what art people can create. Junk which loves the people, not how they look. Junk which isn’t junk, but wants to be so often. Because it is easier to accept than to accept that I have to be a strong, nice and powerful being.
I can be, I am, but for what?
If all what I am fighting for is nonsense, impossible and not wanted.
As if world peace was possible. I don’t mean that everyone has to be part of it, but that everyone could have it. But no, such things are impossible. Even the bible says that it is possible one day, so it can’t be possible.
This is how it is. And in order to come true the world has to go down.
But what if it is a big test?
I would be for it, but because there are too few who listen, who see. Maybe I was the blind one the whole time. Maybe I wanted to solve what shouldn’t be solved. Maybe I wanted what is not real.
As if humans could ever be good, right? As if there was always just pain, just pain. And I know it is not true, but these days it seems more logical, more real.
As if all our existence is based on fear and death and all what comes with it. Some are happy, some are sad, some are in the middle and then there is me, someone who was everywhere in a way, but is unsure about staying.
What I am experiencing is that the world is waking up. But on the other hand, I think it could mean the end. And if after the end would be a new beginning, a better world, I am for it. But I don’t have to see it.
I don’t need to live for it to happen, do I?
My support could be needed, but when most of the time I am just busy with keeping myself on track, whatever track I am on, I won’t be a big help, would I?
The ones I spent time with, might see it different. Maybe they were happy to have me around, maybe I was just another of many friends who passed by. I know I helped some people out. I know maybe one is still alive because of me. But maybe I gotta trade in my life so more can live.
And death would say, “But you can’t pay for what has no price.” So I sit there and say: “But death, why wouldn’t you just take it as a gift?”
Death: A gift? Why would you give your life as a gift for me? It was a gift for you and up to me to take it from you. So by just giving it to me, where is the game, the struggle, the drama? Wouldn’t it be more of a challenge, more interesting to fight, my friend?
Me: “Hey, you know we had our battles, we had our fun, our tears and learned from each other. Why can’t it be time for us to settle down and just walk side by side? Just see the world without the nonsense?”
Death: But isn’t this what it is all about, the nonsense to keep you busy? Didn’t you want to solve it all?
Me: But I did it, so what else is there to solve? I know there are still a lot things unknown in the details, but the core values are wide open for me.
Death: So why don’t you stay for the details then?
Me: But, what would it help, if the details would only point to the things I already know? I am still just here to love, but I can’t do it when I am reminded that it is worthless, although I know it isn’t true.
Death: So you should stay to show them that it actually is worth. So they all will be my friends instead of fearing me. So that they all not have to take a visit from me. And if so, only like a friend coming by.
Me: But how can I explain? How should I tell? All I do is writing weird things. All I do is being a complete mess when it comes to the life outside this box. So I know there are people who love me anyways, I guess. But what does it help? People will die anyways, whether I stay or not. If I go, someone else might take my place. So why the struggle, why so much time?
Death: But you wanted to stay to help, am I wrong?
Me: Maybe you are right. But what was the trade, was there a trade?
Death: Well, you and me we are good. That was the deal. You don’t fear me and I give you time to help those who can’t help themselves.
Me: So who is paying my price?
Death: You are paying it. You pay it with your lifetime, you pay it with your sanity. You pay it with your emotions and thoughts. So the longer you stay, the shorter your life will be.
Me: But isn’t this how it used to be?
Death: No, actually there was a time where people lived long lifes. And some still seem to live longer than others these days. Must be a taste of freedom they feel. So you pay for what you would have had to pay anyways.
Me: Does this mean I am dying faster, like double the time, triple the time?
Death: You could see it this way. The reason is, that you asked for it, so I offered you to die faster. A deal for me and you to win. And in the meantime with what you have left, you might be able to do what you wanted to do.
Me: But wouldn’t it be impossible, if each year it gets harder for me?
Death: Maybe this is something you have to discover yourself. Maybe this deal only lasts as long as there still is the need for me to do my job. One day, maybe I could settle down and enjoy the living.
Me: I would want to see you there, stay with you there and take a look on all those flowers, mountains, lakes and clouds. Would be great.
Death: Yes, my friend. Sadly I can’t enjoy it now, each time I do, I have to take another soul. And each time you do, it seems you die a little faster. But then you do no matter what. Maybe one day, we can break the trade for good. Maybe one day united as friends. Or maybe you will forget about me. But I wouldn’t mind – could I finally be free from the burden to take life instead of giving it.
Me: Yes. Dear death, I guess today was just another chat. Just another wish not come true for both of us.
Death: Maybe mine, maybe.
Me: Which one?
Death: I will tell you, when it is time.
Me: Oh, right. Still mysterious, like in the good old days, right?
Death: Indeed. *smiles*