2 a.m.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: March 02, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 02, 2017



2 a.m.


Aren’t we all people who question their existence? People who are lying awake at 2 a.m., looking at the walls of their bedrooms, painting the white walls with memories and “what if's”, trying to remember certain song lyrics in our heads and the name of the person we set next to in elementary school.

And some people, but actually quite a few, paint a second life for themselves. A second journey because life is one. A life where money doesn’t matter and where we can love the people we want to love and where chocolate won’t make us fat.

And as they lie there, thinking about this real life they will never experience, their hearts are beating and they are dying. Because from the exact moment we were born, the moment our lungs fill themselves with dirty air the first time, we start to die.

And maybe there’s a girl, somewhere out there, staring at the ceiling and thinking that dying is a great thing. Because what if it is? We may never know if dying is actually the purpose of our sheer existence.

It’s quite possible that there’s someone out there, with a heart so weak, but a mind so strong, staring at the walls too. For living is hard. Living in our skin is hard, maybe that’s why some of us cut it open. To finally breathe.

Or there may be a young family, staring at the sky because they have no walls. Considering life has been so horribly cruel to them.

And without realizing, the young woman, laying and staring, is thinking about her lover again, and that nothing about her striking beauty is physical. Maybe thinking about the progress they made the journey they still have to go and not caring about the destination because what does it really matter? There are a lot of things happening after they die, but these things won’t involve them anyway.

And then there are some people, who aren’t staring, whose eyes are closed forever, but still they think, still they dream, still they wish, but they aren’t quite as restless as the people with their eyes open. For those with their eyes closed see so much more, think so much clearer, are so much happier. And the earth is only the beginning. For far beyond we may go. Far, far, far beyond on our endless, melodramatic journey. Because the teenagers were right.

“The party never ends.”


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