“Remember the fact that from the cosmic perspective, we are no more significant than a single atom. Every struggle or hardship we have ever experienced is just one grain of sand in the desert. We are the makers of our downfall, and every mistake is yours and yours alone. You claim it's others' fault, but your inaction led to this conclusion. It's all your fault. Imagine a world without the flaws you have brought into it. Imagine all the pain and suffering you caused for her and now imagine it vanishing in an instant.

Imagine how happy she would be now without the memories of you. Imagine the fun your friends would have without having to worry about you. Imagine the joy and the laughter they are already experiencing right now, without you. Lie to yourself, Keep this perpetual motion machine going until you die alone because of how bad a person you are. All the anger, hate, and sadness inside you mean nothing to anyone but yourself, and you are just a narcissist. You are not handsome, you are not smart, you are not beautiful, you are not talented, there will always be someone better than you in everything you do, and there will always be someone better than them. So what does that make you? What is one human being to a mob? What is a mob to a king? What is a king to a god? What is a god to a nonbeliever? You either consume others or be consumed yourself until we all die and return to the nothingness from which we spawned. No light at the end of the tunnel, no heaven or hell, no reincarnation, just nothingness. As our body decays, turning into dust that will disappear into the cosmic expanse from which we originated, remember this. You are nothing, and a waste of oxygen, The punishment should fit the crime, should it not?”

These are the thoughts that appear in my mind every day when I wake up. It is torrentially overwhelming. Why do I have these thoughts? It just fascinates me that the human brain can try and even comprehend something of this magnitude. This sort of introspection seems to be a capability only humans have. Some people believe it to be a blessing, while others think it is a curse. I believe it is a bit of a monkey's paw situation. Humans wished for intelligence, but the caveat of that wish is we know all the hardships the world has to offer and all the difficulties we levy against ourselves. 

Time. I feel like I never have enough of it. I did not have enough time when she was here and by my side, and it feels like she has been gone forever. That moment feels like it lasted for a millennium, but it was less than two seconds. In two seconds, she said the two-syllable word that broke my heart in two. Goodbye. I often wonder what would happen if I could go back in time to see her one last time. To see her eyes that shimmered. To see her unruly brunette hair.  To see her heart shaped lips. To see her warm smile. To hear her laugh that brought me a pure, radiant, joy that only saints know. To hold her hands, with each finger a different color, a spectrum of color like the spectrum of emotions I feel for her. Oh, what I would give to just be in the presence of perfection one last time?

At the same time, I might just be overthinking the whole thing. Like I always do, like I am doing right now, like I did before, and will continue to do till the end of my life. One million thoughts bouncing back and forth like a ping pong ball during the Olympics. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum. Like the pendulum to a clock. Like the time that is passing me by right now. That is passing every single living and nonliving thing in this three-dimensional space, causing both growth and decay, perfectly balanced.

Where does love originate? It seems only to cause pain, so why do humans crave it so much. What did humans do to make God so upset as to curse us with the emotion of love? Sometimes, I think of the story of Prometheus. Did some creature feel it necessary for humans to feel love even if it would hurt us? Saying love is like a fire is a fair comparison, I think. At least the way I rationalize it, humans need the feeling of love just like we need the warmth of a fire. Just like fire, love is beautiful, awe-inspiring, and greedy. Just like fire, love burns brightly and disappears just as fast. It spreads and spreads, taking over everything in its path until all left is a husk of a once beautiful landscape.

I know this is all impossible. What would I say to her? How would she react? Would I make the right choice then? Will I ever make the right choice? Is there even a right choice to make, or was it a certainty? Like tears in the rain, will my words be lost to her? Will she hear me? Maybe I would just be holding her back, mostly if I went back now. If I cannot even face her now, how can I meet her in the past? I should avoid her. I have caused her enough pain.

*brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring* *brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring*

I cannot answer that. What if it is her?

*brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring* *brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring*

The need to answer it versus my common sense, I wonder which will win out.

*brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring* *brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring*

I reach for my phone, and I see to my horror: "One New Voicemail- Laura."

I gather all my courage and click on it:

"Hey Michael, I think we need to talk about what happened last night. Call me back when you get the chance. Bye."

An arrow pierces my heart. An arrow from Eros’ bow filled with bittersweet hope and worry. Filled with every possible outcome, every timeline, both good and bad. What do I even say to her? This pain in my chest, is it genuinely worth it? The happiness she brought was temporary. Is there even a point? Even though she gives me joy, knowing that she can cause this much heartache, is it worth another go around? She used to be my light, but now I am blinded by her almighty glory. If only I kept my big mouth shut.

I remember back in high school, around the time I truly got to know Laura, I read the tragedy of Prince Hamlet. I do not remember much of it now, and if I am honest, I did not understand much of it then. However, right now, in my mind, one line keeps being repeated over and over again.

"To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come."

I never took much notice of it, but for some reason now:

"To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come"

It is echoing through my mind like a droplet falling off a stalagmite.

"To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come"

What does it mean?

"To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come"

Who am I kidding? I know what it means. I know what that line means. I-I just do not want to. If I talk to her again, I do not know what will happen.

If I do not, I know what will. If I do not, it will be the death of me.

I-I thought death would bring me rest, but I know that is not the case.

I-I need to talk to her.

*brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring*

*brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring*

"Hey, Laura, it is me... You were right, I mean, are right, you are always right, I mean...”

I take a deep breath

“Sorry about the rambling, it is just I am exhausted, and there has been a lot on my mind. We need to talk about you, about me, about us, about everything."