Paper Homunculus

Year 1920

January. Monday.

Is it on? Can you hear me Steve? Alright. Um. I'm nervous ha-ha. Well… hello people my name is Simon and I welcome you to the show of the unknown origin. Were broadcasting on a frequency that only fine radios can pick up. My buddy Steve made sure of that since we are looking to just send out anonymous messages. Of learning and of understandings. Now we both are using faking names and won't be telling you our exact location. All you need to know is we are just some lost souls searching for the meaning in our life. We don't know how we'll be able to do that. We have no agenda written down neither do we have any learning. We just have a wire to speak on, some books, some letters from an unknown friend and our mind. So I'm …opening the first letter. Its been sealed pretty good. I must say I love the idea of concealing memories in letters. Steve says how we're able to send message through wire and soon they'll replace letters and to that I say is bullshit. Maybe in some time people might convince themselves of that pleasure but only writing connects us. It gives us feelings of power and control over our emotion even though that it totally metaphorical. Okay. Um. Steve is showing me some obscene gesture which I'll ignore. So getting on with our letter.
Its a beautiful hand writing. Its a she. That's all you get folks. No names no identities. So I quote:

I'm obsessed with the idea of dying. It seems like a pleasure and a pain altogether. To a person like me I so much admire death that despite much objection of my husband I spend much of my time in the graveyard in the town. I sit on them and try to feel the souls. Try to imagine that souls are down there in the soul looking up and I like to imagine they are happy since happiness in the one thing we living things work hard even though its the most easiest thing to achieve. We want to feel happy, we want to forgive and feel free. We want to confront our fears, we want to give up, we want to start over but only the thought of change stops us. And these souls buried spent their lives, wasted them, they saw their life like a paper burning. Morphing into ash right in front of them and they want to stop it but they don't. They think it'll hurt their hands. Only if they knew that once the paper runs put there won't be anything to hold. If you take the flame out now. If you forgive now. If you forget now. If you love now. If stop hating now, only then will you start living to your full potential. You'll see the absurd chase for this absurd world is a set up. And you do the things you love. And that gives you a beautiful death. But if you be like my husband. Running after everything meaningless you'll receive the end he did. Depressed. With no purpose in life. He always wanted to be a lawyer. But only faith or some pressure from the outside world changed his direction and he end up working as a doctor. I'm writing all this first time because today due to his hatred towards his profession turned him into a useless I'll in the theatre. A healthy man died. He was depressed when he returned. I was making some tea to sooth him down when I heard the cracking of our roof. I went in our room to…
To find my husband smiling with a rope around his neck. I'll be posting this right after the funeral. Just so I can send the message to people out there. I know lots of them won't be like my husband, lots of them will survive. But there are some things similar to death and regret for the rest of your life is one of those things. So just just to rest my husband's soul. I beg you to do what you really want. Not what the world wants you to. Do it now. And feel proud. Proudness is better then eternal regret.

With love.
Anonymous.

Unquote.

I think I…Steve is putting a song for you folks out there called Maybe by Inkspot. And with that I sign out. Thanks for listening to Wirehouse. Fin