don't ask why, don't cry, don't make a scene

[Laruku Tears]

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Of course, he couldn't see that smile. I'm tired, he said, because it was true. One of so very few truths. He was tired of winters and summers, of wanting, of needing, of obligation, of pride, false or otherwise, of the world, of himself, of others, of everyone, of no one. Of conversations like these. Of arguing, of saying nothing, of accepting, of fighting, of dreaming, of thinking. Of everything. Did he want to live? No, not really. Did he want to die? Not if he had to go out of his way to get to it. If it would just take him, however it wanted, quickly, slowly, suddenly or not, in the darkness, in the blinding light of sunrise -- if it would only take him, then he could be content. But he was tired of thinking that, too.



What do you want? If not the same?

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