Since the best filled tombs are not always in cemeteries, I will tell you about the tombs next to my house!
He worked very hard, accumulating the work of others, while concealing his exhaustion. To get rid of these charges, he began to drink, he fell the first time, the next times he dug his grave! His tomb is a few meters from his home, a bar where the living have fun and return, where the survivors cheer themselves up, where he kills himself and buries himself incognito!
She saw the past age, she heard that the other girls had experience, here she is fallen into sexual perience! The first time she regretted, the next time she let herself go! She dug her grave a few steps from her house! at the home of a man who rents her a dream apartment, where she kills herself and buries herself without a word.
As a child, he was wise and intelligent. He was the pride of his family, the example of an entire generation, a model for the multitude, but a prisoner of perfection; the hostage of the desires of others. He killed himself slowly, with each mistake of course he doubted himself, with each failure, he accused existence. Becoming more and more human. His tomb was a pedestal built in excess. He killed himself in silence, no one noticed his absence, for he was present, but as another!
She had curves, those that gnaw from the inside, those that accuse and apologize with a simple look. She tried everything to look like the girl next door! Nothing helped, she failed very often. Her tomb is not far away, it is her mirror, she kills herself with the plate and buries herself with regrets.
They loved each other, with an unparalleled love, a love that burns with passion, alas, that leaves the ashes instead of a hundred tendernesses. They ran instead of walking hand in hand and ended up getting tired! Here they are discouraged to continue in pairs, but difficult to assemble each his own things. Failing to live together, they wrongly swear to stay together in defiance of life. They kill themselves by a look, by a gesture, the home of yesteryear has become the family tomb.
In good seminary, he wanted to be a priest, as the years passed, he had not only for God, but also for the childhood friend, difficult to choose in a society that constantly establishes and judges, he pursues the priesthood, but life is relentless and pursues him. He kills himself by his thoughts, he buries himself by the vows that weigh on him. His tomb is the cathedral where he officiates without vocation, just a convocation, a duty to do so!
The tombs next door are well filled, life no longer has customers. It’s sad next door! The only difference between cemetery tombs and those next door is as follows:
Next to it, people can be resurrected! All is not lost, flowers can always bloom again, help can be miraculous, coming out of the grave to get out otherwise is not a utopia, but a promise if one has the courage and faith in life!
Written by Aliane UMUTONIWASE