I don’t believe in angels, I don’t believe in demons.

I think that this life, as it is, is like flying over the moon – any moon. Look above!, there’s an infinite amount of stars, and so many others, as there are planets and nebulae and even dust.

I wish I could be more religious, as if I could close my eyes, stretch my arms and reach out to something soft, warm and safe. Yet I am me, someone who was scarred a thousand times, fell flat to the ground, stood up to fall over again.

But in the end I did stand up. Which price did I pay, though?

I do have awareness, I am “awake” (or “awoke”? Oh, you English language!) in a sense.
(I do prefer the word “awake”, though, even if it might be wrong at the moment. I need to live in the moment.) I know that those who hurt me in the past they did it because well… maybe it was their nature.
Or maybe not?

As I know that those who right now might detest me they might have a very good reason for that.
Or maybe not?

Right now I am trying to face the fact that I might exist for more 40 years – or 40 seconds. I don’t know, and I damn wish I did.

I wish I could call her and ask her “so, how’s life at the other side of the veil?”. I can’t, though. We never truly connected when she was alive, how can I ever expect to connect to her now that she’s gone?! Sometimes, when I think of her, I think of gore. You know?, that sort of gore that might happen when one’s corpse is laid down on the ground inside a casket? Yes, that type of gore.

It feels like I am being punished somehow. I am not sure what were my sins in this case – maybe to have chosen this particular family in this particular speck of time and space?
And yet, as I said before, this feels like this is the price I am paying for having achieved my awareness.