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This diary entry is written by ‹✖[[AntisocialButterfly]]✖›. ( View all entries )
Previous entry: I broke the law and walked away dead. in category Life

Conversation With a Homeless ManCategory: Life
Sunday, 26 February 2012
10:17:38 PM (GMT)
It's twenty-twelve, what's your name? 
That's a splendid name, my grandfather had one similar to it. 
I have no name, they took it away from me a while ago.
It never did me much good anyway. 
It always got in the way. You can only be one person at a time when they name you. 
Why, of course it makes sense. 
Well, no, I suppose not. 
I've never been quite right since I lost my wife.
I have a box of tissues under my bed only for the tears I cry for her.
Actually, we were never legally married.
But we decided to be married.
Of course we can. Why not?
Perhaps you only exist because someone decided it should be so.
You see now?
Well. Ah, yes, I wonder about such things. 
What I wonder about is... You know, many people have a junk drawer or some such small
space where they leave small items that they don't use but don't want to throw out,
and I wonder if the things that are found in these spaces determines our life,
perhaps there are patterns, because the things that are left behind by all of us
differ depending on how we have lived.
Perhaps somewhere in the universe there is a dark corner where all the things and
people and places no longer used end up. People go missing all the time, you know,
with no one to say so much as, "What ever happened to him?".  
Or perhaps Earth IS that place and we are all the rejected children of a society so
far above us that we have lost the capacity in our minds to comprehend it.  Maybe
some day they will open it up again and we'll all be given a second change to have a
Until then, we can't think of it because our minds won't allow us to feel that much
We would die.

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