We don't know each other. We have never met and yet, there is so much we have shared. You have hated me for reasons more than one, and even as you did, you never had the peace of knowing that I knew of your hatred. Even if I had known, I would never have understood it. For how could one hate someone one doesn't know? But you can and I am glad you can. I'm glad it is easy for you to hate as easy it is for you to love. You are truly free in that. But to me hate and love both seem impossible. My mind won't let me love, my heart won't let me hate.
Sometimes I steal into your photographs and try to read what's there behind those eyes. Is there another one like me, as afraid of life to come and as remorseful? I guess I shall never get the answers. We don't know each other, but in the family of life, where times make relatives out of strangers, you and I have lived the same life, met the same end. In that we are siblings.
I do not cannot hate you. Because for that also I need to know you. And to really know you I have to love a bit of you. What you and I have is beyond such notions of love, hate and knowing - complex notions these (but at least they are named). I wish you weren't at this place, not because it would have altered my fate, but because I wouldn't have spent night after night thinking of ways to become forgetful.
