Curiosity

I’d love to know what the secret to this life really is. I’d love to know what really makes a person loved, hated, admired or looked down upon. I’d love to know what really separates the gods from the desolates, the poor man from the rich man. I’d love to know why we really sleep and why we have to bleed to know what pain feels like. I’d love to know why the most painful things in life don’t bruise you on the outside at all, so no one knows to rush over and help you unless you ask. I’d love to know why the best things in life are such a mystery. I’d love to know why we lie, steal and cheat with our every waking breath yet somehow, manage to look divine in someone else’s eyes at some point in our lives.

I’d love to know these things and yet, I love that I don’t have an inkling what the answers are. Whenever I can’t sleep at night, it’s because I’m thinking about these things. Whenever I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, it’s because I had a dream that I almost figured out the answers.

While I sit here typing this, I’m having one of those moments where I feel as if the world has closed in tight around me, whispering horrible things about how it will reveal everything to me in time. Imagine, it gestures, “Anything that you want to know!” And the mere thought of it makes me so sick to my stomach that I have to get up and stretch, remembering that I’m hungry and I still have to eat.

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