Whispers in strange languages are echoing in the distance, blocking
signals, even messages in corked bottles. Some sort of barrier, a protective shield
constructed of will to erase. Then again it’s only a futile effort… the
impossibility to multiply anything or anyone with oblivion, or the history that
carves us into who we are, what we are. And what’s the worth of this life if it
stays like that, safe and secure, protected from feelings, unexplored!?
At a certain point, one comes to understand that the biggest regret in
this life is an unexplored feeling. When we go against it, we go against
ourselves; and that’s costly, we always pay with a good chunk of the soul. Repeating
it by habit, one time after another, other feelings numb, they’re denied; and
by the time that happens, we become something else, something different… full
of regrets.
I’m truly blessed I know nothing of this!
