The Tragedy Of A Dark Side Of Humanity

She swiftly but gracefully climbed down the twisted marble stairs, as her dress grazed through the surface of the scarlet centennial carpet. On top of which the bodies that carried souls left their stories there and embodied them in the forms of wine and cigar stains, that don't wash out. Like the forgotten blobs of blood off of a white sheet. She knelt down in front of a fireplace and carefully, very subtly moved her hand through the whispering burgundy flames and with the tips of her fingers grabbed on a burned piece of paper that was almost ripped apart and burnt to dust. Her skin started to turn red, redder than her cheeks that were bit by cold nights, as she took the piece of someone's handwritten note out: "Vivamus, morendium est"... - Let us live, for we must die... - she whispered, while watching the flames dance. Her eyebrows wrinkled up and formed a valley between them. Until a tiny snowflake landed on the tip of her nose and turned into a droplet of rain. The wind suddenly gushed in and killed the flaming waltz. She picked up her head and looked through the open window... - Vivamus... - she repeated quietly and stood up, her dark brown hair fell on her chest, as she stepped towards the window. - Morendium est. With these words her life froze, her heart stopped beating, as one chapter of her life ended in front of her eyes. The snowflakes covered the windowsill and created a crystal path that lead outside. Outside to a new life, not necessarily a better one. A tear ran down her cheek. The cheek that the night decided not to bite anymore, the night empathized with her, as she watched her brother lying down in snow looking up at her. Although the word "looking" doesn't really fit anymore, as his head rested in the pond of blood that used to connect them. Mors unius tollit vitam alienam. Fuit semper similis ut. The Death of one, takes away the life of another. 'Twas always like that. That's the tragedy of a dark side of humanity.

Whatever You do, do not take a life of another's, including your own. It's not really yours to take. You did not inhale life in you, or make a heart beat. God did. "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." (Job 1:21).

Cherish your beating heart, cherish the beating heart of another life that is standing next to you, be grateful of the air that you breathe, that your ancestors exhaled. Believe me, all of them wished to see what the future holds. Some of them exhaled in pain, wishing to live a little longer, a little differently. Some died wishing to taste life, craving for a heartwarming, sincere touch, instead of a shotgun or a doctors scalpel and his cold rubber gloves on their skin that they could barely feel. You can live, and while you still do - enjoy it, feel it. Go out and feel the shape of grass; raise your head up, stop for a second and appreciate the beauty of clouds above you; feel your heart beat, relax your shoulders, feel the weight of your body, that the Earth is going to take away. Live a little.

Yours always,

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