Just.

And so it's a stupid fricking maze, of course, just for us tourists to search. We're tourists in a maze where we're only here to explore. A nice big maze, teeming with roots to trip on and stones to twist your ankle on and dead leaves for you to take pity on.

I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name
like a fool at the top of my lungs.
Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm alright,
but it's never enough.

I don't get it. I just don't understand why we can't save ourselves from the inevitable labyrinth, why we can't save ourselves from the twisted fingers of hatred, why we can't save ourselves from ourselves.

Why do we have to be so destructive, why is it that whatever I touch with my mind crumbles under my fingertips before I can feel it. 

There's something which I said out loud, once, and I remember it because it was just something that everyone should've thought about once in their lifetime.

Because people want to die painless deaths, don't they? They want to die quick and short and be gone in a whisper, a drop of water that is small, but ripples loudly amongst everyone else. Not have to drag themselves through the mud, only to meet the jaws of the alligator.

And I said, "Life is just part of a long, painful death." Because you can't die without pain, you can't die without some sort - some sort of regret, or guilt, or without some sort of stupid thing which you know that you messed up. 

Everyone, I've figured, is just pretty messed up.

And we all just want to stab a damn flag into a crater and state that we've been here, we've done this, and it doesn't matter. We want the ripples, but they're meaningless. We'll just be forgotten, because there are 14 dead people for every living person, and one day the name that's been trickling down generations will finally be lost, no matter what you do. It'll be lost to sand and soil and water and fire, and you can't get that back.

You can't get life back from death. 

It's just sand, really. Sand seeping through your fingertips. You just can't get it back.

People describe things, like emotions and feeling things. Like when your heart metaphorically breaks, you can physically feel the fractured pieces stabbing you, over and over, when you breathe. Or like when you're physically burning, your nerves are metaphorically screaming at you, 'Getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetout!'.

But you never know what they mean - you can't know what they mean, unless you've felt it yourself. If you haven't been metaphorically broken-hearted, thinking you'll get how it feels to be metaphorically broken-hearted is just as likely as you understanding what it's like to be physically burned when you've never been.

If your toes aren't cold, you won't know how it feels. If the tip of your nose doesn't get numb during winter, you'll never know what it's like unless it's happened. People don't get that.

And that's why they use the word 'indescribable' to describe things, but that's only slightly less pointless. Because trying to think of an extensive degree of pain or hurt or happiness is never the same as actually experiencing it.

And you'd never get what I'd mean if I said that my head was numb, but hurting, and if I said my throat had a strange lump in it, and if I said my mouth tastes like sweet custard but it's not a good feeling, although I like custard.

And so it's a stupid fricking maze, of course, just for us tourists to search. We're tourists in a maze where we're only here to explore. A nice big maze, teeming with roots to trip on and stones to twist your ankle on and dead leaves for you to take pity on. 

Sometimes, you just have to wonder what the center could be.

The End

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