Dear Bella,
I'm writing to you because I would like to acknowledge your way to see things. With things, I mean the conversional state of living and the transformation into death. If I had to choose, I think I know enough of hate to say that 'death' would be the easiest option. "Dying is tender", as you said. But what is living about? As you can see, even in death you can find your future and your reason to die for. What if it all ends like this? Maybe life can't offer me what I'm looking for, but death can? Are we all haunted by our destiny? Or is it just the simple spirit of conspiracy that keeps us being thirsty enough, looking for a some kind of sense? A sense that we need to live for. Life does not have a sense, maybe death has. But then, aren't we all lost souls flying around this world to let us define our personality? To find our passion, our joy and all of life's beauty itself. Until at some point, we have no fear anymore. Our curiousness thrives us into the unknown. And this is where it all starts over again, only in death.
