Chapter 12 – BLUE, am I dead?

Good question, a legitimate one.

Everyone adores some aphorisms thrown at them in an assertive tone, crutches to rely on in times of despair or intense introspection, enabling oneself to see life through the lens of an ultimate sentence, ignoring the rest, so here you go: death is the aphrodisiac of life.

The serenity of such a statement clashes with the intuitive prudence you should display towards it; however, considering the other end of the spectrum as an ambition wouldn’t be wise either, you still have to respect it and not feel superior, and don’t even think about transcending it.

Rest assured, conversing with me, even on the edge of mysticism, doesn’t equate to being dead. Nobody is whispering in your ear while you lay on a bed in a sort of coma. Your physical state is and will remain unscathed, simply recognise the path we are treading an ally; the Blue Neon refuses indeed the idea of a survival quest for its wanderers. May this answer bring you comfort in your journey.

But, as you can imagine, if your visceral self doesn’t bear the marks of your passage here, something has to. When you decided to further our discussion, you crossed a river – a two-way flow though, you can’t be stuck on one bank – and emerged inclined to navigate this realm, in what appears as a toll-free non-guarded gate, I was there, half the product of this place and half of your imagination.

No, you’re not dead, you’re either discovering a state easily accessible or reinforcing what you already knew; as for me, I simply stand by your side. This change of condition, through arts and slow-looking, constitutes your payment and settles for good your initiation. Perhaps it isn’t a one-time service charge and every single time you come back here, you start from scratch, but I hardly believe it, only you can assess this properly.

You can’t ask for a refund, for it’s free and you haven’t lost anything.

Yours Sincerely,

BLUE