OBLIVIA
He
knew love,
He
felt love,
But
he knew that he was too young to express love.
When
he was a little boy, he thought that he was special,
He
thought that he was a beautiful boy.
Everyone
thought it was funny and told him that
He
was handsome, not beautiful.
He
still believed he was beautiful and special,
That
the whole world was a story in which he was
The
principal character.
In
junior high school he wore glasses for the first time
To
school and Teacher called him windscreen.
He
cried because he thought his glasses were beautiful
And
the perfect size but Teacher, whose opinion mattered the most;
Whose
every word was a dose of wisdom,
Whose
every word bore as much importance
As
the bricks that would build his future,
Thought
it was bullshit.
He
tried to hide when he cried
But
when the boys caught him,
They
called him WOMAN WRAPPER.
By
the time he believed that he was old enough
To
express love,
Love
had already died a thousand deaths
From
stabs by the very same people he thought
Were
the embodiments of love.
Between
being called windscreen and eighteen,
He
learned that love was wrong.
He
learned that love was a thing that made you dumb
In
the eyes of the world,
Love
was something that you could get killed for.
When
he was old enough to form opinions,
The
first opinion he formed was that his life
Was
no more than a withered, dry leaf
Floating
in the wind.
When
he was old enough to form opinions,
He
wrote in a journal;
“Do you ever wish that
you never existed?
That the whole concept of
existentialism
And life never had so
much importance?
That creation or
evolution never happened,
That oblivion would save
you from all the
Hurt of existing and
bring you to sweet,
Everlasting
unconsciousness,
Help you forget how to forget
and remember
Because then you do not
know what anything is
Because you are basking
in the comfort of
Never knowing, never
feeling, never seeing,
Or hearing or smelling?
How glorious that would
be!”
He
thought of the possibility of the existence of
Other
worlds where lights and consciousness and hiding
Were
not needed at all.
Tonight,
he shall go to the riverside
And
board the faceless captain’s boat
And
sail across the black river to the other side,
The
world of perpetual darkness
And
never-ending oblivion.
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