Where do we go when we die? It’s a question we’ve been trying to answer since we were cognizant. Theist believe we got else where or come back; atheists believe we just rot in the ground. The rest of us who don’t have the absolute answer just hang around and listen to both sides and decide in the end what we believe in. It’s not a case of being right or wrong.
I started a letter to Jenn about two months ago and I never finished nor sent it. The first line reads: “A kid online asked me for my definition of hate. And for the first time in my life, the written word couldn’t save me, explain me.”
I’m pouring these thoughts in notes that none will ever see. And if the final product is to ever emerge, I’m sure no one will be interested in reading it.
In his study, he wrote his thoughts during breaks from his homework. College had changed his mind about the world. Often his deepest thoughts were written when listening to “Fur Elise.” In his notebook a promise was made in deep ink: “When I set the world afire, I will be listening to this song.”