If there is anything that I know, it is that the past catches up on you, no matter how fast you run or how far, for you carry it with you, in the back of your mind, or at the bottom of your heart. It is impossible to change the past, and not easy to forget them. Things change, and we all have the ability to meld the present into the future which we desire. But our limitations remain glaringly obvious and eternal questions remain, for whatever we get, whatever we do, until they are solved, we remain unfulfilled.

I sulk for simple reasons. I sulk for the very same reasons that my friend sulked. Once in a while, it gets to me that I cannot find a reason for living this life, that we cannot find a justification for our actions, that the things that matters most to us, should not matter at all. Existentialism tries to solve these questions, by stating that we create our own meanings and we decide on our own life projects. Meanings should be personal and private, subscribing to the socially defined will only result in a semblance of life, devoid of authenticity.

Yet that is little in the way of consolation. It will only sound like a poor excuse from seeking the true teleological status behind our very own existence. And we sulk.

She asked me if a beautiful sunset over a the battlecries of a thousand soldiers in war would still be beautiful. I told that it would be beautiful even despite the carnage and the violence beneath. For beauty is still beauty, irregardless of how the world is, above the conflicts that rage beneath the blues skies, insensitive to the pain and suffering of mortals.

Perhaps only beauty, being so detached from the ways of the world itself, can allow us to forget Life.

"The sky is the same everywhere, always the same, always above the pain and the love, above joy and murder and loss and sacrifice."

~The Crow - Resurrection