The taste of death feels close to the tongue; you sort of don’t care about anything anymore. You visualize your worst nightmare; the thought of being an old single lady who’s lonely as hell, and it doesn’t even feel that nightmarish anymore. What’s worse? Someone asks. Losing your pride or to die lonely? But if you die inside while you lose your pride, then you’re dead anyway
when you stay in that situation.
Any long term relationship grows on you like deep roots on a tree. Anytime that root gets cut, you feel the tingle of the end; like, why does it matter anymore? That life doesn’t matter anymore. You lose interest in things, you grow numb. All the people you’ve admired, whom you’d be with and love in a heartbeat had you had the chance
turn into the scattered realities that they truly are;
Still, you wonder where your life would go. You get reminded of your childhood when you didn’t predict that anything like that could ever happen to you. Back to the memory of that goat whose death is long gone, but the taste of his dying remains imminent. His lazy eyes and the way he ate the banana peel. Walking with him around the neighborhood on a leash like he was a dear pet. I wonder how strange he felt, being the only goat in the entire neighborhood. I wonder if he had no choice but to go where I took him, eat what I fed him. I can feel the taste of his death, when we looked at each other eye to eye on the last day before his slaughter. I cried deeply because I missed my friend while they decapitated him. I had no idea that that’s why they had bought him in the first place; to eat him. It may be be TMI but he baaaa-ed and tried to escape before his head rolled on the floor and his cries became silent.
I can go back in time and taste his death, the exact moment when we stared at each other’s eyes.
He’s telling me this is what death feels like; when you feel like you’ve lost control of fate and of situations in your life.