“I only know goodness, and anger, and revenge, and evil, and desire. These seem to me far better words than neurosis, psychology, and paranoia. These old words, these good old words have a sort of conviction, which all this modern apparatus of language now lacks. We bury these words, these simple feelings, we bury them deep. Nor the building over that constitutes this century will not wish these feelings away.” John Morgan
How easy sometimes it is to fake cheerfulness! These good old words shall be respected, as well as one's true feelings too, respected and recognised, not faked nor buried. These words build the fundamentals of humanity, and there is nothing wrong of coming across them, experiencing them, feeling them, deeply. What is hindering us from expressing what we really think and feel? What if death comes and finds us in utter ore? The boy died with contentment, respecting the truth.
Why did he have to kill himself? He brought a gun before he came, obviously it was a planned death with a purpose. What was this purpose? As he was watching from the window the market, the people coming and going getting their shoppings done, what is in his mind? Is it that he could not connect to people? He could not come to terms with the faked cheerfulness and peace. Finally he found his comrade, yet, she shared, but did not want to admit. These mutual feelings electrified them both, especially her. She did not believe such moments existed that when they came, she denied and rejected them. He thought she would be different, but she chose to give in, being part of the prevailing society.
Like Gandhi, death is a non-violent way of him saying NO. Maybe to wake the living up too.
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