Better Untold //Conversation//

une

What if I told you it never got better. Then would you believe me?

Why would you say something like that?

I don't know. Because I'm bitter? Because I'm old? Because you're young, and you're going to need to make so many mistakes before you can ever grow. Because maybe, if I tell you mine, you won't have to end up like me. 

What would be so bad about that? You have a story, D. An adventure.

I have pain. And heartache. More than I would ever wish on anyone, you least of all.

It can't be so bad. You survive still.

You can live after death.

What is that even supposed to mean?

Exactly what I said. Someday you'll look back on this and understand it all.

That's what everyone says. That I'm too young, and these things will pass me by for a while. But I want to know. I want to understand. That's what you're supposed to teach me!

I can't teach you these things. No one can. It's just the sort of thing you learn.

You could teach me. You just don't want to.

How did you learn to walk? Did someone take your legs and force you to move?

No, I just sort of...did.

Exactly. And one day, it'll be the same. You'll just understand. I can't explain that to you, the same way I can't explain how to breath or how to think. 

There has to be someone who can teach me.

There is. Somewhere. But, once they do, you'll wish they hadn't.

And what if I don't? What if I'm just glad to have heard?

Then it'll just prove that you're stronger than I am.