Do You Know Him?
Tell me, have you ever felt it-- that scary moment when the lightbulb on the ceiling above flickered and you knew that it would be out soon, leaving you in the dark, and yet you couldn't help it?
Tell me of the time when you were calling out for help, or trying, as your voice filled the void with desperation, in an attempt to be heard, but overcome by the gusts of wind, as the avalanche mercilessly swallowed you whole.
Tell me of the day when you were alone in that new city with absolutely no idea which road was going to lead you home.
Or perhaps you could recall one of those moments when you looked at her, and saw her smile, and it struck hard that you weren't even close to the reason of her happiness and that she was never going to be yours. Hm?
Your vulnerability is, oddly enough, an open book. So, hearty welcome to The Complete Idiot's Guide To Indefinite Helplessness, my friend.
You see, there are barely a few factors that constitute a person's unique identity--the one by which we know them. But, uh, they are enough. And these 'real' identification marks are what makes them truly vulnerable.
Do you think you know your roommate just by his taste in women? Or by his city of birth? Huh?
Have you ever tried getting into his skin? Do you know which song he hums when he thinks no one is around? Do you know what he thinks just before he forces himself to sleep every night? Or about that itchy memory that still makes him form a lump in his throat?
Have you wondered why that girl on the table across always puts a little extra chilly on her oh-already-so-damn-perfect pizza? Or why your well-to-do professor wears those same torn pair of shoes every day?
Do you know why your father hates Crime Patrol that much? Or what your mother is most passionate about? Do you know of your best friend's needs?
Tell me about you.
Imagine you are on your deathbed and your whole life is flashing in front of you.
Do you see those teeny-tiny moments that blink repeatedly? Why are they blinking? Are they moments of some significance? Yes?
But you regret not having acted when there was still time? Or perhaps you acted and you wish you hadn't?
Tell me, do you regret being more than enough hard on yourself sometimes? Or too slack? Do you regret not having been able to achieve anything valuable enough, make your country proud enough? Or even your parents?
Tell me, do you regret not having read enough, or traveled enough, or seen enough? Oh, tell me my friend, do you regret not having LIVED enough while you were still breathing? (Hey, you're still on your deathbed)
For let me know what's enough for you, anyway.
Hell, do you even know what you fucking crave for, really? Could you even make a guess?