Sometimes you need to listen to stories you wouldn't ever listen to. Stories which are like fishing hooks piercing the storyteller flesh, stories you believe had better to be unsaid, to be unheard. They stir the coscience and tear the flesh coming out, they make the storyteller and the listener bleeding. Storyteller's and listener's blood get mixed up, the hearer feels the pain of the speaker, the speaker fears to remain alone. They hurt, those stories; they cut you deeply, and you want not to listen to, you want to get deaf, you want just being comfortably numb. Then you can choose between two different ways: you can rid yourself of the other one, showing your cowardice, or you can fasten yourself to the other one's sorrow making you and it just one thing. Inseparable till you'll keep memory.
No comments:
Post a Comment