Scene 5

Why should you cry I said, why in the bloody H should you cry. And I didn’t type in these words. I wouldn’t think he’d like more scolding, besides all the pain he has gone through. The pain, of something yearning against all the belief he ever had. Of all mental treatments he accepted unconsciously in that tower house, under the lanterns, in front of the priests. He never even realized that what had become of him was an even more clashed nature, because of the treatments. Yeah the treatments. The rituals the words the hums, the appeasing existing that drives the human out of bodies and injects into them utmost emptiness that somehow doesn’t feel bad, at least for those who are pure existing-emptiness themselves.

Not him. He wasn’t that empty from the very beginning and he suffers now from the conflict, the morose, the desires, and the blasphemy.

Does he understand o yes he does, I talked with him for numerous times to find him up where I am, but he carries on his back more than I do, which starts to swallow his natural intentions, and make him miserable on his knees, for the wrong reason. He gets laid by the B-book, whipped by the holy, humped by the commandments. And yet he plods on, cries into his sleep, his fantasies, his prayers and his sleazy dreams. He lives for no one. Not even for himself. He lives for the aftermath of dictators’ crimes centuries ago. They all do. And what makes the climax of the tragedy is, they laugh and sing and say, this is haven.

And I stopped talking to him. I wouldn’t spend time dealing with the sacred widower. He is lonely because he is abandoned, or chose to be from even before the prelude. Or somebody chose it for him. Out of what intention aha read the climax again. Why was peer pressures overweighed than family ones? Why was it never named a crime to bring children into the planet and fill them up with rancid souls or sculpt them with distorted knives? Why was it considered guilty to kill, but never to force someone into suicide? Why the BH should the imperfect world saved by an even more marred creature, whose existence is unanimously questioned upon? You can romanticize the pleasure, but never ban the ill-fated happiness just to stabilize your reign. (This starts to become a GRE verbal test, find the closest word to “reign”. Here you go.)

I gave a crappy suggestion, and some remarks that surprised myself. Either God makes you happy, said I, or guys do. Or you choose to be unhappy. And he agreed.

He said that was so correct. And I thought this was the perfect epilogue of the tragedy.