Emotional Sketches

1.

There are things in life we simply have to accept.

Just as water doesn’t taste like wine, and straw can’t turn into gold, life flows with an unyielding gravity.

Perhaps that’s why we bleed blood instead of wine.
Instead of shedding gold, we shed tears.
Because this paltry human body could never contain the fullness of a life.

2.

The night of the full moon, you cried for the first time.
Tears rolled down your chin, and for a moment, I thought you looked like me. Clinging, desperate, struggling to stay alive.

I had always settled.
You were a wolf on the open field.
Even though our farewell was inevitable, I still cupped my hands full of tears and sprinkled them over your head, hoping to see them glimmer.
In the end, everything just soaked into the ground.

It was a love like a soap bubble.

3.

After a long silence, the old man finally spoke.

Things aren’t always what they seem.
Don’t try to read life like a story.
Instead, learn to listen to the sound of endings colliding.

The girl was the only one in the city of the blind cursed with sight.

It was hardly a remarkable gift, but if she had to name one good thing about it, it was knowing the exact shade of her favorite black shoes.

The village was always dark, and its people wore nothing but shades of gray.
So sometimes, the girl began to doubt her own gift.

4.

“Youth is a limited thing,” he always said.
”Give it five years, and we’ll all be pigs in cages, picking up whatever scraps of youth someone else dropped.”

He always talked like that, about how the waves were restless and the beach was endless. But the sea he knew must have been different from mine.

Whenever I watched the black waves rise and crash into the sand, breaking into pale white foam, I always felt the urge to cry.

Because I didn’t want to know what lay beneath them.

And so I made my case:

In the end, we’re all just children trapped in bodies too big to wear. When I look back, I don’t think I’ve changed much since I was six. Just rusted here and there, chipped a little more at the edges.

Life demands that we decide things instantly, like some wise old man. But me? I’ve always felt like I’m living with a damned gun pointed at my head.
Half-lived youth leaves nothing but ambiguity, and I’ve never wanted to wade into that murky puddle.