Humans die

dead and transitions. the way home. A friend of me died. She decided to commit suicide. It make me think and feel a lot about life and dead, about choices and freedom. I experienced my own dead and reincarnation while staying in a human body. It felt divine, great, fantastic. It was refreshing. Beyond everything I ever experienced before, I could not have suspected what would happen only a few months later. That the lovely game of transitions would feel so hard. That it would make me so amazingly sad. I couldn't talk, couldn't speak, couldn't think. I am the first to look at the gift of it, to see all perspectives. The sadness stayed. The hard reality that made my belly swirled up. I almost couldn't share it. Life went on. And work and school started. I jumped into everyday things. I told two friends about it. The whole story was to surreal to be true. I thought about the father that had to tell me his daughter died. About her friends who didn't knew anything for three months. About me having to tell them that what they suspected is true. What is there spriritual about dead? Why do people talk only about the positive side of life? Why don't people cry? How can people say it's her choice, that she had no pain? I feel so damn human today. I read my own writings that tell me that I am oke. That I am whole, that everything is in perfect order. That there is only love, that every emotion is oke. That there is acceptance, that resistance is oke also. That I am god also, and that nothing will change that. I am human also.

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