Why

There's a common question that many ask in their day-to-day lives that people often overlook in its simplicity. When asking for an answer to a query, when asking for a justification to a juxtaposition as one's brain is jumbled. When asking for a simple response on why a particular individual acts the way they are.

Why?

I often ask myself this question, particularly when the midnight moon peers over the windowsill and greets me with that shimmering afterglow as the rays of the sun barely hit its rocky surface just right so that it feels like it's smiling down at you.

Why?

Because of all the things that happened in my life, all the decisions I've taken and will take in the near future when I am tasked with trying to overcome the most inconsequential things in life. Maybe even sometimes this rises when I'm trying to persevere and attain the highest of highs while being in the lowest of lows as being in the bottom is infuriating when you've done nothing your whole life being looked down upon by those that are high up in society's pyramid. I have done nothing but do everything while doing nothing as people say that anything's possible even if it's impossible. This convulsing itch deep within me to become somebody even if I'm just a nobody to the eyes of many as my body is too tired to object to the directives of my head is simply extraordinary. A testament to man's unyielding belief and indomitable spirit, or maybe it's my stubbornness and narcissistic tendencies mixed with a fear of being forgotten due to my desire to be loved by everybody even at the expense of those that do care deeply about me.

Why?

Because even if I have everything, it still feels as if I'm nothing. It's nothing, pointless, worthless, a value so fleeting it's akin to time itself. I may have the most bare bones house or the most expensive watch, yet even in the end it still counts as absolutely nothing. This very idea, this foundation of belief that I have stood for ever since I was a child. It makes me want to reach up into the stars and keep gasping for more, to reach ever distant planets, or stars, or even galaxies. A never ending desire to have everything for it all means nothing. Though I would kid, but for me it's no laughing matter; as this sick and twisted mindset in life has put many people off with my actions and behavior. This mentality is not pessimistic per se, just—

Why?

Because, just because. Even if I can have everything, there are some things I'll never truly attain or grasp. Things that money cannot buy, time cannot give, God cannot provide. Things that we mortal men and women cannot—supposed—to even be in possession of. Something intangible yet tangible to the point where it drives us mad. For when all philosophers and psychologists of the entire history of man have dared to attempt even grasp this incoherent and inconsistent idea that we call love. 

So much so that I had never seen that I would trek this path as well. I had fallen in love with her.

Why?

There's a lot of things. Too many to count, too grandiose to write, too painful to remember, too harrowing to even recall. She was everything. You see, when I have nothing, she was the person that would give me something. No matter how insignificant or worthless, because in her eyes everything has value, therefore everything matters. That's why when I had everything, I'd give it all to her and more. She was the very answer to all my questions in life. She was the secret of my universe. She was the person that made me feel complete. The person who made me see the true wavelengths of colors and the strings of fate that have driven both me and her together. She was the person who made me realize all my ambitions, my flaws, my faults, my darkness. She gave me light when I was lost in the abyss, fed me when I was starving, gave me shelter when I was cold. She showed me the meaning of a kind hearted soul, and what it means to be human. 

She was the very reason I didn't end my life that night. She was there for me in the depths of my despair and my peaks of euphoria. She was there to pick me up when I stumbled down the mountain. She was there to tend to my wounds when I was hurt. She was there to accept me for who I am, for what I have become, for what I stood for.

I loved her because I never knew what love truly was. That the definition of love that's embedded in my head was nothing more but a mistake, an error, a lapse of judgment in my rational way of thinking. Logically, I shouldn't have fallen, but emotionally I was all in. Like a winner at poker, a 21 in blackjack, triple sevens on the screen as the bar was slowly rising back up for another game.

I loved her. So much so I'd almost ended my life trying to reach her.

Why?

Because she never loved me back.

Why?

She loves somebody else. 

Why?

Because…

I don't know. What is there to know? Would knowing help me now or would it make me even worse? Would knowing the truth about me and her help with the fact that she's happy in the arms of another while here I remain—seated and writing this final adieu to a piece of me that I shall bury personally.

I loved her. That's the objective truth from this subjective perspective. Despite the insurmountable odds, for six years I have waited patiently for her to say the words "I love you too," as even such words are enough.

I've waited patiently, like Hades on the gates of the underworld waiting for my Persephone to come home to my arms and tell me that it'll be alright and that I shouldn't worry about her. 

I was a fool. Like all the others. This game in which few are winners, the rest are sinners waiting for a chance to play again in this cycle of neverending melancholy.

Why?

Because even though I was there. For her. For everything. I was of no use. 

As much as it pains me greatly to say, speak, even reminisce; the only memories of her left within me are the failures of my own inactivity and blindness. I have killed all the memories which provided positive emotions. 

Why?

Because I left her.

I left her because it pained me too greatly. To love somebody that I cannot even hold. To love somebody in the arms of another while I watch on and expect to perceive happiness at the couple.

It chips away at my heart each time she tells the stories, it eats away at my soul when she describes all their doings.

It drives a man insane; because if not jealousy, or envy. The indescribable grief you'd feel is rarely brief. It will continue on even when she's no longer there. Even if she no longer appears in your dreams.

You'd forever live with this specter of a past that no longer exists. As much as you'd want to burn every single bridge, the very idea of you falling in love with someone will never be rid.

I wish nobody may feel the same way I feel. Not even on my biggest enemies. It's a pain so vast and consuming that you'd believe you're being driven to the edge of your sanity. Tip-toeing between the line of mentally stable and suicidal.

Why?

Because I have never felt love like this to the point I ended up chasing it wherever it goes. Each hit is bliss, each touch is revitalizing, each step I take in her direction is important as even a whiff of her perfume or her shampoo is enough to satiate this growing addiction.

Obsession and Delusions all feed my current misery, I'd wish I never met her but she has intertwined herself with my current philosophy. Each woman I meet, I search for a glimpse of her within them.

Why?

Because I still love her. To the point where I have to cut myself off just to survive. This is never about love anymore, more of codependency. I have told her 13 times that I love her and I am tired of waiting for a response that I know will never arrive.

Dear God, It's not often I pray. As despite all the terrible and fucked up things you have thrown at me for my two decades of living in this parade you have created in the beginning of time; you have yet to give me a time to really have a deep and philosophical conversation with my own tattered psyche.

What is there for me to pray for? I have a strong and unyielding belief in your undying love for a mortal yet immoral soul such as myself. A soul who had chosen to live by his own codes, rules, laws, and ethics. Though flawed in many regards, I have used the words of your most favorite son to the best of my abilities. I have become a brother to the brotherless—and despite all the intolerable sins I may have committed, I have yet to commit such an unforgivable atrocity to which many would declare me as a heretic.

But though I no longer knock at the doors of your home, nor do I dare step foot at your land—which as many tried to wash their hands will be forever stained with blood—I have still come here. Asking a simple damned question to all the problems you keep throwing at me.

Why?