Why?

 .

.

I can't be sure why, only that... many people don't, won't, tell me the truth.  In spite of... speaking plainly, and listening, having been through hell and death, bleeding out in strange ways... people seem to think I can't handle more.  I do not understand why people won't tell me what happened, what is happening, around me... sometimes even to me.

I have asked myself if I would like more pain.  Do I?  It... isn't about what I want.  I just... prefer to know the truth.  I prefer to know what has happened.  I may... forget.  I have done that before.  Or, I may... forget from time to time, remembering as able or... able...  But I should know, be told, some things.  Dark?  Harsh?  Cruel?  If it is true, just... say it, tell me.

I sometimes wonder if... everyone I know is dead.  Perhaps in more ways than one.  Though, if the deepest of the meanings of that were true, would they even know?  Purgatory is a strange place.  Though, earth... simple, plain, without thought to God or the afterlife, is quite strange itself.  I don't think so, that I or we are dead.  But, how would you know if there is more and we are given a second chance.  Would that second chance appear to be... what we are used to, or something new, different?

Do tell me the truth, if you know it.  I've... handled everything else.  I seem made for pain anyway.

I don't think I am the only one who... lives in a strange world... or... used to live in one.