What Remains?

What remains when something that was taken from you was never replaced?

What remains when you’re on the opposite end of the spectrum listening to a loved one shouting silent curses at you?

What remains when you’ve poured your life into everyone around you and when you need help, everyone plays space ghost?

What remains when forever is temporary?

What remains of love?

Does it convert into something else unexplainable?

Why do we spend so much time building relationships, when all that awaits is death?

Do we fear the absence of a seat left void?

I’ve many relationships left as dust in the wind. The only testament left is destruction. If destruction comes first, then how bad could death be?

Many welcome death as a means to an end. Yet, death is not an end, rather, a new beginning. A new beginning to spend an eternity with a new set of people who you’ve never seen before.

Funny how we run from the very thing we needed in the first place.

I suppose bonds are what remains. Bonds are dressed up with love, hate, patience, impatience, marriage and divorce. Humans wouldn’t waste time fighting to be bound to something or someone if it wasn’t beneficial to them. We have this need to fit somewhere…

Perhaps, it’s me who needs a place of my own. I’m a misfit in a sea of clones. Scary isn’t it? Though I’m a misfit, I need bonds of my own, but not just any bond. The difficult part is finding someone who’s authentic. Yes, I used the word authentic! It’s a sad day when individuality is just a term. It means nothing to duplicates, nor zombies.

What remains when the wind blows to and fro and the masses goes with it? What does that say about the state of society? And what happens to those who refuse to bow? Where is our refuge?

Most likely an urn with our ashes in it, and that’s if the masses are nice. The alternative is our bodies dragged through the streets, or nailed upside down to a makeshift cross as an example to any rogue survivors that hope to think for themselves. This is will be their fate; convert or die.

©privatethoughtsmadepublic

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