above the seawall

 They say we all walk on fine lines that lead us to where we are meant to be. Sometimes it gets thin that we walk on all fours. And other times it’s so wide that we walk unconscious of our surroundings.

These words made it seem like we're independent beings going on different roads. But isn't it more profound to think that all our roads lead to the same end? A shocking stop. A wonderful stop. Really, there's no difference.

It’s not the beginnings that matters most. Neither is it the endings. I say surely the in-betweens shouldn’t matter as well. For when it doesn’t matter it doesn’t exist, so surely there must be no beginnings nor endings. And when there is no beginning there is neither a middle. In conclusion, there wouldn’t be a story at all.

Each one becomes a nonsense, which would make everything else unreal. And more so, unreal would be unreal. We would seize to exist.

I say it’s not the humans that are evil. It’s the context that society made us believe that makes us feign malevolence. Evil is cool. Forgetting is cool. Oblivion is a popularized thing. Amnesia is something admired to have.

I stand here above the seawall, looking at the vast ocean that lay ahead of me. The wave is touching the foot of the wall. Back and forth. Back and forth. End and beginning. End and beginning. I want to remember all of it.