March 3, 2017
From She often wondered the best way to die. Whether to be hit by a moving car, or a leap from a building, Or drown in a bathtub. Or pierce her head through a bullet of a shotgun. But she was too weak for suicide. Her ego wouldn't allow her to take her own life...Her ego, too fragile at the thought of reducing her grand-esque life to the pity of other people shaking their heads. Her ego, too weak to imagine if her parents will blame themselves over the loss of their beloved child, wondering they pushed her too hard and that tipped her over. Her ego, too strong to let this gunshot be the climax over her yet to blossom dreams. Her ego, too strong to let existentialist logical thoughts end this absurd hunt for a life of meaning.
So she waited...
She waited for the plane to crash. Or the bomb to explode. Or the thief to murder.Or the parachute to collapse, as she did that goddamn Skyfall. So that everyone would blame life instead, including herself, over how her life had unfolded and bloomed. And maybe somewhere she'd be comfortable with the idea, that it was all over, as she finally laid it to rest, that thought, "Whether to carry on another day or not?". The decision was finally be taken off her hands. Nothing ever scared her anymore. / In bloom ..a sense of ending.
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