Death and Sorrow

The sun is shining outside. There seems to be a slight breeze, but I bet it feels pretty hot anyway. I'm sitting in the living room stealing glances at the trees and the little bits of the sky within my range of vision. I have my thinking face on, which I guess makes me appear sad or troubled because my father always asks me if I'm okay whenever he sees me like this.

I was thinking about death just now. I'm not afraid to die. I've been within the realm of the dying. I want to be able to welcome death when it's time. I could have sworn it was my time to go almost a year ago. To this day though, I'm still dying and so is everyone else around me. From the day we are born, we are dying. Someone once told me something like that. I guess it sounds depressing, but I don't see it that way.

If you had the power to bring back the dead, would you? I think I would want to, but I would never be able to bring myself to do it. Bringing the dead back seems cruel in a way. The dead need to be left alone. Ah, I don't sound like my "normal" self right now. I've gone out of it, but let me continue and see where I go.

Can you see sorrow in the eyes of others? I can't. People seem to find hidden sorrow lingering in mine.  When people find sorrow, they wonder what the cause is, what the reason is. Very few care to bother finding out. And the ones that do find out, they forget and push it to the back of their mind or out of their mind. They don't ask questions. They don't try to comfort you. They go back to normal because your loss has nothing to do with them. At the same time though, each person faces their own struggles so the other person can't truly be blamed. We all live different lives. We all have different struggles. We can only be there for each other so much.