His religion was unknown. He didn’t worship the moon, neither the sun. He didn’t care if the stars shone bright or the sky went cloudy. The heat didn’t faze him for he alighted the matchstick that made the hell seem cooler. The cold didn’t bother him because he was all cold inside. He never resisted the dark, he resided in it. He never plucked the fruit off a tree, he derooted the tree. He didn’t like flowers, he killed the buds before they even got a chance to smile. He didn’t like defeat because he was used to of conquering it. He never found out what defeat tastes like, because he chewed victory. He never walked to his destination, the destination walked over to him. It was not about Armani or Versace neither Gucci or Rolex. He wore himself because for him, nothing was mightier. Nother was grander. Sometimes, he’d make me wonder if he was even human but I know he was. Maybe more human than most of us. More real than most of us, maybe any of us.
Truth is, in life, you sometimes come across people who confuse you. People with two different personalities. One that you see, and one that the world sees. Just like him. He tried to conceal the softer side of him, but for how long? You can’t hide from yourself. You can’t hide yourself. Sometime, when we think that someone doesn’t care, chances are that they care more than your capability to understand. Sometimes when you think “it won’t matter to them”, it matters more than you could comprehend. Sometimes, you lose people because you don’t understand them. Just like I did.
“Diana didn’t die, she was killed.” You may disagree or agree, but the truth is, she died. He wasn’t pushed away, he just chose to leave. I may agree or disagree, but truth is, he wasn’t there. Human nature is such a confusing creation. You only realise the importance of light when it fades away. You only understand the beauty of colours, when they get overshadowed by grey. You miss their existence when they cease to appear and that is when you see your fault.
It wasn’t his fault why he never worshipped the moon or the sun. They were bound to disappear. It wasn’t his fault he never let the flowers bloom, because they still would have withered. It wasn’t his fault why he wasn’t reachable. Not his fault why he never let his heart skip a beat for someone. Because he was real. And he lived in reality. Because he feared fear itself. Or maybe, he didn’t fear at all. A Confusion in himself, I’d never find out.