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I'd Rather Be DeadYou're always asking me if I had anything worth dying for.
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I'll pose the opposite to you and ask you this:
"Why is it that you find life to be worth living?"
Is it so interesting to go through each day feeling anxious?
To the point that you feel nauseated enough to collapse.
Is it so joyous to spend each night staring at a blank ceiling,
Hearing the clock tick on toward morning,
And yet you lie awake.
Tired, but awake, emotionless, but awake...
Do you truly get up each day, facing it with optimism.
Or do you look at the news and the state of the world,
And genuinely fear for your safety?
Now, if it were me that you had asked my dear,
I'd tell you quite honestly: That I'd rather be dead.
At least I would not have to hear the white lie inside my head.
That tomorrow will bring me a 'better' day...
But of course, you are welcome to believe that.
Go pick some daisies.I took in all of the things that were typically deemed irrelevant to me, like the flowers, the grass, and the blue, pristine sky. And I thought about what they meant. What were they supposed to signify? Bees pollenated flowers. Birds made nests. Winter was cruel and trees shedded their leaves as if they were nothing. As for the sky, I thought it was just an open book for us to read and interpret our own way. You can blame it all on basic science, but my thoughts gave all those familiar things new meaning that day as he was sitting by my side, curling his fingers in the grass. Is everything here for a reason?
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"John, do you ever think that there's more to life.. than just living it?" I asked, tilting my head slightly and staring at his profile. "Hmm?" I had interrupted him and taken him out of some trance. "Go pick some daisies, Macca." He chuckled. "You know you want to." Smirking, he threw some grass at me playfully. "Are you gonna answer my question?"