Maybe I shouldn’t talk about her. Love is like a religion she has. It stays there as long as she believes. For that matter, she is a very religious person. If she believes there is a single sparkle of love from the other side, she builds a religion from there. If she believes, she keeps giving back. For her, it’s all about believing or not.
She suspected he was so sick that his sickness was above any feelings he could have. And when she had to face the truth of his sickness it was if a religion ended. Something was so very wrong that a reading of all had to be done! It was a disaster, a hecatomb! The kind of accidents that change history…
If only people causing that kind of problems could witness how awful they look and sound to other people’s eyes and ears! If you really love someone, you naturally respect his or her mother, father and even distant relatives. The contrary is a revealing sign. Because she closed herself inside this premise, she can’t see a way out.
So then, sometimes the end of a religion it’s not about other people but about feelings. It’s all so simple: feelings are there or not. If they aren’t there, how can a religion survive?
She has done all she could to keep her faith alive. For days and days she stopped believing in existence itself, because it was so difficult to stop believing. It was like dying. Yes, she had to die before she found herself again.
Now she is a disbeliever. She doesn’t believe anymore. She knows a religion existed sometime. She knows he exists somewhere. But his existence has become nonsense, like a dead religion. Something she cannot explain but she knows now it’s not real. Not real love, not real religion… If love existed, it’s now a dead religion.