She thought it was strange
how life could be the thing
she simultaneously hated
and loved the most, especially
when it was all she had to do.
How she could hate her
body so much, when it
was the reason she was
still alive and breathing.
And how at any minute
her heart could decide
to quit pumping blood to
her brain, and everything
she had ever thought,
every idea that had ever
crossed her mind would
vanish.
She thought it was strange
how some people could love
the unpredictability of life,
when she was so terrified
to wake up for the fear
of dying so suddenly.
She especially found it
strange how she only feared
dying at those moments
in her life where she would
die happy and content.
And how she was only
lonely when she was in
a crowd of people.
How dreadfully boring
she thought life was,
when it was all that would
ever occupy her time.
And even on the days
she hated to be alive, she
still did it. Because she
realized that she’d never
know what death was like.
And she didn’t really want
to find out.
