Questions

We all have 'em, don't we?
I don't know. There are just so many of them everywhere, discarded on the pavement along with broken hearts, suppressed in minds under the weight of ego, drifting in and out of dreams, and soon forgotten.
Leaking out of eyes full of tears, seen, unseen, ignored, acknowledged but left unanswered.

These are strange games we play, pretend to not have seen things we have, pretend to ourselves that we don't know answers that we do, afraid of facing truths, not wanting to lie.

How many of them do we actually want answered, though? Are we not afraid? That's why we leave them unasked, we let it go, though we are the stubborn people who always get what we actually want. We leave them there on the pavement, along with the shards we don't know how to fix, and assume that we can go down to the store and buy a new heart. One that doesn't have so many questions.

But we can't. We can't and we know it. Yet we leave it as a question: Can I?

So when we finally face the answer and know that our ignorance, or rather, pretence, has made us heartless in every sense of the word, we go back to the pavement and look for our heart, but of course they'd been swept away into the trash along with the questions we are, at last, ready to Google, and all we can find are the little leftover pieces which the big broom couldn't take away. And those little pieces are all we have left, splinters of someone we vaguely remember. Someone we used to be.

Don't hide your questions; don't throw them out of the window of your car. They don't pollute anything but your heart, even after you think you've let go of them. Let them take the window seat. Be curious, get your answers; there'll be nothing left to regret, because asnwers can prick but questions....questions leave scars.

Dream and hope, because it shows you how to live.
Question and answer, because they teach you everything.
Smile and cry...for one is incomplete without the other.