Neither by reason, nor by force...Everyone claims to suffer more than the rest — but enough.Does anyone truly possess something of their own within?I don't think you even grasp this world yet…And you won't, not even after death.
I wake up early. Turn off the alarm.Drag my face with weary hands.Half an hour later, I rise — an actor repeating a lifeless script.A shower, a stare into the mirror — a stranger staring back.Cold breakfast. Numb heart.
Open the door. Close it again.The mailbox speaks. Bills, charity, lies — and one sky-blue envelope.It trembles in my hands. I tear it open.I breathe. I read with greedy eyes.Death.She's gone. No more letters.No more laughter sealed in ink.Just her name, and the place where she rests.
I run. Fall. Rise.Drive through a world that moves as if nothing has changed.Lights. Dust. Cries. A thief beaten.A world so alive, yet I'm dying.At the cemetery, silence reigns.Her name carved in stone.A shadow blocks the sun. A soft voice whispers:"I'll love you forever… thank you for coming."I reach out — she dissolves into mist.Loneliness breathes again.
I gather her favorite flowers, place them gently, whisper:"I love you too."Peace. Wind. Distant music.Later, coffee and jazz — her final words echo:She knew she would die, yet still she wrote love.
Night. Darkness. Rest.Her warmth in memory. Sleep.
Morning.A kiss. Warm. Real.She's there.Smiling. Whispering: "Good morning, my love. I love you."Tears. Relief.I dreamed a life without her… and the dream ended.I hold her. She laughs softly.My head on her lap. A kiss. A smile.The end of logic. The beginning of forever.