A Brief History of Human Sadness

Part 20

Why did you try to take your own life?"

 I asked, setting the cup back on the table, glancing at her and then setting it in front of myself.

 "Because I wasn't as lucky as the cup. When I fell, no one reached out to catch me." 

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Normally, I would have gone up and held her, but today, for some reason, my heart had become unexpectedly cold. 

"Didn't you say that depression is physiological?" I continued to press, cruelly, as if cutting into her wounds with a blade. 

"Yes, but the torment it brings is mental. Depression doesn't cause pain, but it causes despair."

 The knife seemed to pierce my own heart.

 "I understand all of that, it's just..." I trailed off, finding no words to continue. I had wanted to press her to admit something, but even I wasn't sure what that something was.I guiltily met her gaze, and in her eyes, I saw a look of pity. I couldn't tell if it was for herself or for me. 

"Let's go for a walk. It's stifling in here." After a long, awkward silence, her sudden smile was incredibly radiant, reminiscent of the Biblical phrase, "Let there be light!" The dim cafe suddenly felt bright. 

We paid and bid a polite farewell to the familiar shop owner, stepping outside to walk side by side in silence to the park. It was early spring; the snow had melted, leaving the ground damp. The moist air was invigorating, refreshing even to the soul.

 We sat on a familiar bench in the plaza, shaped like a galaxy. From a distance, the city skyline seemed dreamlike under the night sky. Just like countless other cities, the neon lights and glow were so dazzling that, even on a clear night, the stars were barely visible. Civilization seemed to have symbolically triumphed over nature, with the heavens' glory brought down to Earth. Human intelligence shone so brightly that even God's creations paled in comparison. 

"How proud would we be if we never left Earth and witnessed the vastness of the universe?" I mused aloud, gazing at the dim night sky, not worried that she'd find my thoughts odd. 

"If we hadn't witnessed the vastness of space, perhaps humanity's ambition would have already peaked. Maybe we'd become more introspective, and wiser," she replied, understanding my thoughts without needing an explanation.

 Our conversation was typical for us, covering vast, abstract topics without delving into emotions. I cherished these discussions with someone of equal intellect. My affection for her began with our talks. I confessed this to her once, and she didn't find it strange. We both believed that physical intimacy was indispensable. Why meet if not for that? She called this a modern aspect of love. I disagreed, believing that whether in ancient or modern times, the liberation of body and soul was always desired. 

"You haven't become a pessimist because of me. You still have hope."

 "My view on love is more pessimistic than yours." 

"You've never told me your view on love." 

Suddenly, she reached out, pulling my face towards hers, and pressed a brief kiss on my lips.

 For a moment, all the dazzling city lights vanished, leaving only her warmth and scent.

 I stared at her, frozen like a statue, her gaze as paralyzing as Medusa's. 

After a long pause, she spoke, her voice sounding strained, "Thank you."

 I continued to stare, unable to respond, unsure of what she was thanking me for. She smiled gently, looking into the distance. The night was cold, but the frozen moment between us had thawed. I continued to blink and ponder, sharing my wild ideas about life in the universe. She listened, occasionally interjecting with agreement or rebuttal. We discussed existential matters, avoiding pressing personal issues.

 At one point, she questioned the relevance of our lofty discussions, "What's the point of discussing these abstract topics? Isn't it childish?" 

I responded, "The universe, life, and death are real, not abstract. Our daily needs and experiences are a given, whether we talk about them or not. Once our basic needs are met, we look up at the stars and ponder the bigger questions. That's the start of maturity. What's childish about it? As for meaning, life inherently lacks it. We must assign our own or accept the absence of meaning. There isn't a universally accepted 'meaning' to life. Questioning the meaning of everything indicates a lack of ambition." 

And yet, at that moment, I betrayed my own principles, consumed by one question: 

What did that kiss mean?