Wouldn't you agree that we are born empty?

 

We are all "untitled pages"

We have no title to hint at our story

 

New documents on web browsers or apps or a crinkled scrap of paper

That begs the question, "what am I about? Who gives me the breath of life?"

 

These pages long to be filled with infinite combinations

Of words, sentences, paragraphs

Emotions and thoughts and ideas

You begin with the simple words

Once

Upon

A

Time

 

There was you

And you were just you

A happy you

 

But then a baby brother was born and you were a lonely you

Because your parents carried the baby, and you were just you

But that baby grew to become your friend and your beloved enemy

 

And then school came and you met friends

Friends like you

Friends you told your secrets to

Like who you liked

Who you wish to marry one day

 

But those friends wilted and new ones budded into a bouquet of joy and laughter and memories

 

Then he came

And you have your first crush

So you write it down in you not-so-secret secret diary

Dear Diary,

Today I met the one who will turn my life upside down

 

You fall in love

He says he loves you back

And you get this sort of feeling like

 

It’s a new familiarity

Every second you spend with him, rain or shine

You are grateful

You know that he is love

Because of him, you know what love tastes like

 

Everything seems in place, like a puzzle

You feel complete, happy even

 

And something so small

Something small in your mind forms

A thought, a temptation, a question

It divides and reproduces

Rapidly so rapidly

Until it grows stronger and bigger and stronger so strong that you can't help but obsess over it and so much so that this divides the very thing that brought you and he together

 

And so your mind says goodbye

But your heart says wait…not yet

 

But you continue

Budding friends blossom and wilt as the seasons change

And with that you are lonely, forgotten even

Tossed away like you had done to those who wilted

 

But you continue, or so you try even with the faint greyness that flickers around you

 

And so you continue

Because you are strong and God says you are worthy

And you are here now reading this and realizing

That we may be born with no words, no thoughts, no sentences,

no budding friends or wilting ones, no titles, no secrets worth writing down

 

And wouldn't you agree that we die full with lead words and crinkled scraps of paper?

But you must agree

that we die with a Bible of love, emotion, passion and life.