My dearest angel!
You are afraid of what you most desire.
You desire that of which you are most afraid.
You desire to come here. To became human forever! To have feelings! To live in irrelevant world. But you are afraid of shortness of the life. Insignificance. You are afraid of that moment before you going to die. That you will regret. Not the choice to become a human, but the choices you have made living as a human.
My dearest angel! I know you know everything about me – just all what you see and hear is some abstract codes. I wish I could give you my eyes to see the beauty and misery of this world, sunset through my window, a curl on my lover’s cheek, red lava flow eating a forest in seconds. I wish I could give you my ears to hear the laugh of my little sister, when I tickled her, to hear the silence before thunder comes, to hear the first scream of newborn baby. I wish I could give you my taste-buds to flavor my first kisses in the dark on the bench near the lake, to taste sourness of the lemon. I wish I could give you my heart to feel the excitement when I jumped out of the plane, to feel my pain of disloyalty and breaking someone’s heart.
Is this big? Is this significant enough for you to stay? What is significant? Are you? Am I?
What I am going to think in the last second before I die?