I love my life

death?
I fear death
because of the
pain that it may
cause;
if it is painless,
I know I will die
happily.
But, I don't wish
for death.
Though I call myself
an absurdist,
deep down I know
that I am a
nihilist,
yet
I am deeply
in love
with this life.
I want to live
as long as the
nature
allows me to, or maybe
god does.
I want to live,
yes,
but, not for the people,
not for the lifeless
stuff,
not for the
extraordinary life,
no,
I want to live for
my mother
who loves me
more
than herself.
She doesn't know
that I am an agnostic,
but she suspects.
She asks me
to pray,
to pray,
but I don't.
She doesn't know
that I recently
started
smoking cigarettes
again,
she doesn't know
that I had smoked
before.
You may say,
"it's nothing",
but if I tell her about
that,
it will hit her
like a
slap
on the face.
She raised me
to be a good
boy,
but I have never
been one.
It's not that she
failed, no,
but I am wired
like that, anyway,
what is good?
Good is subjective.
There are a lot
of things that
she doesn't know
about me,
but she suspects
some of them,
not all.
I often wonder, actually
I don't.
But, would she still
love me if
she knew about
all the things that
I did,
all the secrets that
I carry
in my
mind;
some things that
I don't
remember,
but have faint
memories of,
like shadows or
ghosts of the
past,
floating around
aimlessly,
sometimes poking
me
to make me
remember
what I am
whenever
I am thinking of doing
something good?
I know she will.
But, I will find
the resentment
in her eyes whenever
I will dare
to look into them
after that.
But, I will
still
see a plate
made for me
three times a
day, every day,
with snacks too.
But, the resentment
will always be
there.
But I don't want to
find out.
I want to live
for literature,
for books,
for poetry.
I want to live
to see the world
end,
and walk on
its ruins
alone.