Poetry

What Are We Getting At?

HER: “Are you afraid of dying?”

HIM: “No. I’m more afraid of other people dying. The people around me I love.”

HER: “Really? I mean I am scared of that too but…I’m terrified to die. It’s just, sometimes I’ll be sitting and think, I’m a skull and I’m bones and stuff. But that doesn’t feel like me, you know? I don’t want to be just bones and a skull. I want to be a person. I don’t want to stop being a person. That scares me, not being a person. I wish I could be a person forever.”

HIM: “You’re depressing me. But I’m not telling you to stop. I’m just saying, this is depressing. But I mean, it’s like when you say that you can’t stand to be here anymore, like in this country, this generation. But, wherever you go, it just doesn’t get better.”

HER: “Exactly. It just really scares me. It’s like this short story I read where the author ends the story saying that the world is so much, you know, there is so much in it at every second, but sometimes, selfishly, he wishes it were more. That’s how I feel. The world is overwhelmingly much. So much sometimes that I can’t even bear the weight of it. But it’s not enough because on top of all of this, we have to die. One day, I won’t be a person anymore. So, what is it we’re getting at?”

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