Life and Death

They say that life comes from death. I never really thought much about it until today. It seems odd. And while there is only imminent rather than recent death, there is life too. At least for now. It works for those around me. They have life. They make it. And it makes death seems less terrible.

And I wonder what that means for me. Because there is so much deadness in me, and it feels like it's really just barren; that nothing can live from it. But it's possible for others. So maybe its possible for me. I just don't see how. I wish I could fix myself and make everything work the way it's supposed to, but I've been broken for a while.

The holiday is only serving to remind me how dead I am. And how alive everyone else is. Alive with flowers and chocolates and teddy bears and jewelry and balloons and whatever else live people get. What's the point? The hearts and flowers are fragile. Just like the heart I used to have. Now it's just a hole and serves no purpose to anyone. It is death itself. And life isn't springing forth from it. Maybe that's just for other people.