When I was taking a Fag by the stairs just a few moments ago, I pushed open the void windows for air and looked-see downwards. The one thing I couldn't help myself with, was the sudden urge of dropping myself, hard, onto the ground. I always thought that this is one of the best choices I can make. Always, and ever. After which, this question suddenly occured to me: "Why am I (breathing/whining/staying/living) here?"
The gap between life and death is narrower than a 5cm fence. The moment you cross the fence, it's like a shooting star falling down the skyscrapers and trapped up among them. It's neither fortunate nor unfortunate. It's like a walking corpse, who reps what he sows.
On a night with (invisible) twinkling stars like this, I wish I could ask my lover who is waiting for me in the next life this : "Are you happy now?" ; "Are you wishing whether to die or live?"
