Monday, October 8, 2012

Digging For an Answer


Sometimes I wish I still had the opportunity to sit him down and dissect what went on in that radio full of static some would call a brain. Ask him a hand full of questions that would most likely bore him to death. That is all me ever talking to him would do anyways. Bore him to death. Regardless of how brutal this would be I had to ask him just a few questions.

I would walk right up to him and tell him that we needed to talk. Knowing him he would try to make a joke out of this in order to escape the tug of the rope woven with my questions that I now had him tied up in. He would say,"what now? This sounds too much like we are in a relationship."

That is just what I am trying to save. Our relationship.

I would lead him in to a dark cold interrogation room. Let him sit down in a hard aluminum chair. Shine that bright light in his face to add to the seriousness that I want to inhibit.

I would pull up a chair right next to him. Knees almost touching. Giving him no area between us to mold his answers into what I want to hear. I would look him straight in those eyes that were once filled with joy. Now with sorrow and pain. I would first pose him the question, "what do you live for?" Im sure he would have a response. A list full of x, y, and z. I would then say, "why do live for those things?" He would most likely would be able to answer that one as well. I then say, "Are those things good?" Hopefully he would say, "yeah those things are good."

Now I have to find out where he gets his standard of good. All standards have to come from somewhere. If there is no standard of good and evil than what is he living for? What is the point of having dreams and aspirations if your not doing it for good. Not trying to fulfill anything. 

I never needed him to be perfect. I just wish I could of helped him realize the path consequences that his actions lead him on sooner. 

If your not trying to fulfill anything. Having no standard of good and bad. What are you living for?

No comments:

Post a Comment