Now, now, let us be reasonable. Let us use our head for once, rather than our soft and useless heart.
Over the past few years, you’ve learned to see the nitty-gritty parts of life, the shadows within the shadows.
Good people die. Bad people die. It is all the same.
People are wicked and selfish, killing others, sometimes by the millions, and everyone simply continues on with their lives as if nothing happened, because there is nothing else to do but to live on.
Life itself does not have any meaning: it is all what we make of it, and once we have made what we have wanted to make, we die. It can be taken away from us at any time, and even if it were, that would not matter, to you and those who still walk the earth. Death is simply a happening, just as a leaf falling to the ground is a happening.
Most people are selfish, and do not care; if they do, their caring is often tainted by other desires, that of being seen in a good light, or of gaining public approval. Sometimes, you’re not sure if there is a single good, true, pure person in the world, yourself included.
And marriage. Eventually, those we become accustomed to turn into flies on the walls, you know that very well, and that love is passionate and lovely for only the first few years: after that, it peters out into complacency, and, most terrible of all, stagnancy. Really, love is not the end goal, and perhaps there is no single person out there who can truly understand you; after all, do you even understand you? And what if someone did? If they truly understood you, knew all the snarling monsters crammed cheek-by-jowl with the singing angels within you, how could they possibly love you? You can be quite a terrible person sometimes, a far cry from the kind-hearted creature you propose yourself to be. Only yesterday you judged someone, and spoke to another harshly, the words dripping from your lips like black venom.
Yet, despite all this, you still dream. Of that one treasured person who can make your heart glow. That, deep inside every human, there is a golden wellspring of kindness, no matter how hard and cracked and water-stained their exterior. That there is an innate goodness in the world, if one only knew how to find it, and tease it out, for good things so often tend to be shy. Each day, you dream your dreams, even when the world shatters them again and again, with a rueful and mocking shake of the head – will you ever learn, my dear? – and you will dream no matter how many times they break you.
And so you go to sleep again, quite alone, with tears trembling down your face, and a quiet hope in your heart. And you live on.