The Last Question

What have I done to deserve all this pain, dad?

I don’t understand, I really don’t understand.

I did what you wanted, I endured everything, but did I really have to endure this too, dad?

I mean, maybe what I did wasn’t enough, I can accept that to some extent, maybe I could have done better, but honestly, was this supposed to be the price for everything?

I can’t feel my arms, dad, I only feel the sparks passing through my palms and leaving my body in flames.

I try to push myself up for every breath, but all I manage is the cold iron on my feet cutting into me even more.

I can’t understand how you decided I deserved to rot on this piece of wood…

I don’t know if you can see me or not, I want to lift my head and search for you in the sky, but even my neck won’t move, as if scared it won’t find you.

At least make a sound, or give me some kind of sign, so I know you haven’t left me alone, so I know the suffering I’m going through isn’t meaningless, dad.

Everything else is leaving me anyway, at least don’t disappear too.

Why aren’t you helping me?

I can’t breathe, I’m suffocating, can’t you see?

Or maybe you don’t need me anymore, maybe I’m useless now?

Yeah… honestly, looks like you’re right.

Maybe none of these questions have an answer.

Maybe I’m not smart enough to understand those answers.

I don’t have the strength left to ask questions anymore, or to find answers.

Everything feels so heavy now, every question, every breath, everything…

Maybe this is how it was meant to be… I don’t know.

You didn’t give me any answer, and I’m slowly forgetting how to ask.

My arms hang limp, my legs are numb, and I have nothing left except half a breath.

I didn’t choose this, I didn’t want it, but I guess sometimes there really is no choice to make.

I understand, I think.

Maybe you don’t have the strength either, dad.

Maybe you never did.

It feels like… somewhere deep inside, you’re suffering too, because you left me alone….

That’s why you have no face to show me, because you don’t want me to see how powerless you actually are.

Or maybe you’re tired just like me?

Yeah… maybe.

That sounds better, dad,

Thinking that you’re weak… feels better than thinking you forgot me.

Yeah…

I feel better now, dad.

The pain is gone… what’s left is a big, quiet emptiness.

Neither this wood nor this iron touches me anymore.

I don’t feel anything.

I think… it’s time for me to go.

If there’s anything I could have done but didn’t, forgive me.

If not… well, even better. Let’s say goodbye like this.

Goodbye, dad… until we meet again.