3-14-06
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What is it about a sad story that so captivates our hearts? Why does the plight of strangers tear us all apart? We will cry for imaginary people whom we do not know, Yet when we see hurt around us, our hearts are cold as snow. It’s as if in reality, we don’t think anything will improve, So we detach ourselves from feeling, we won’t let our hearts be moved. But why is it that in a story, we don’t make ourselves stay cold, We take these figments into our hearts and we open up our souls? It isn’t because the story ends with joy, in all truthfulness, The sad stories are the ones that imprint themselves deepest. Do we enjoy the sorrow, or do we love the pain, That rips apart our hearts when we read a figment’s bane? We grow to love the characters, we think we want what’s best Yet we will begrudge them their only solace found in death. Maybe it’s the sacrifice—the way they choose to die, That they’ll give their lives away for a friend, that we admire. What do we live for? And for what will we give life away? We often find ourselves asking this, at the end of the day. We don’t want to live in a sad story, life is already sad, But we want to live for something more than what we have. Maybe we engross ourselves in tales that make us cry, Because of what they live for, and for what they’d even die. We love to read the fables, to them our hearts we give, For the sad story is the tale we’re not brave enough to live. |
It was an interesting thought, I believed, at the time. Why is it true? We guard ourselves in real life but not in a book, or a game, or really any form of fable. Maybe it's because the sad stories in real life are often lies. The fictional tales are lies too... but they never claimed to be true. I don't know. There's just something about a sad story that human beings are drawn to.