as a kid i used to tink of sunsets as beautiful deaths. as one big ceremony for all the people that died that day. and the sunrises as the arisal of their souls. each and every shade of orange and purple represented a different soul, coming to an end.
growing up, i realised very few deaths are beautiful. the people dying suffer too much, too many hearts are broken along with death, like plates used to break on our balcony, in small, insignificant little pieces.
i remember that day he died. i remember how empty i felt, like no emotions could ever run through me anymore. i wanted to cry, i wanted to remember everything, i wanted to forget, i wanted to be happy his suffering came to an end, but i was blank. numb. nothing. as if it was forbidden to continue any emotion i've ever felt before.