Blackest Bird

I once opened my writing programme and half an hour later, this was the result.

X: What are you doing?

Sam: Waiting.

X: For me?

Sam: Could be.

X: Oh you are.

Sam: I don't know.

X: You do.

Sam: Yes, you are right.

X: It does not matter.

Sam: And you? Why have you come here?

X: I just wanted to be here.

Sam: Liar.

X: It's true.

Sam: Of course it is.

X: Can you hear what the birds are singing about?

Sam: They aren't.

X: What?

Sam: Singing.

X: How do you know?

Sam: I come often here, sit down for a while, listening to their chant. But this is something different.

X: In what sense?

Sam: I don't know.

X: You sure do.

Sam: Yes.

X: Why won't you tell me what it is, then?

Sam: Because I can't.

X: But you can.

Sam: If I could, I certainly would.

X: Of course.

Sam: I'm sorry.

X: Why?

Sam: For them.

X: Who?

Sam: The birds.

X: So you can tell me what's wrong with them?

Sam: Yes.

X: It does not matter.

Sam: No it doesn't.

X: Go ahead.

Sam: You don't want to hear what I have to say.

X: I wouldn't have asked if that was the case.

Sam: Yes, you are right.

X: Of course I am.

Sam: Well, it seems as if they were weeping their sorrow into the depths of the wood.

X: How do you know?

Sam: I don't.

X: You do.

Sam: Why are you insisting?

X: Why shouldn't I be?

Sam: i don't know.

X: No, you don't.

Sam: It's not only them.

X: Who?

Sam: The birds.

X: Oh, yes.

Sam: Pardon?

X: I remember now.

Sam: What?

X: The birds. And their sorrow.

Sam: It is mixed with anger.

X: Is it?

Sam: I don't know.

X: Neither do I.

Sam: But you should know.

X: Why?

Sam: I just told you.

X: You are right.

Sam: What are we doing here?

X: You were waiting.

Sam: What for?

X: Maybe me, maybe not.

Sam: Maybe.

X: And listening to the birds.

Sam: Yes, I was.

X: You were?

Sam: You interrupted me.

X: No I didn't.

Sam: No, of course not.

X: Do you want to be alone?

Sam: I already am.

X: But I am here.

Sam: Still.

X: I see.

Sam: Do you?

X: No.

Sam: It's irrelevant.

X: I hear it now.

Sam: What?

X: The anger in the birds' laments.

Sam: But there is none.

X: I am mistaken.

Sam: Perhaps you are.

X: Does it matter?

Sam: No, it doesn't.

X: I think it does.

Sam: Why does it, then?

X: I don't know.

Sam: Oh you do.

X: You are right.

Sam: It saddens me.

X: What saddens you?

Sam: The endless pain in the echoing voice of the birds.

X: Where does it echo?

Sam: In you, in me.

X: But I am not sad.

Sam: You are.

X: You are right. How do you know?

Sam: You're alone.

X: But I have you.

Sam: You are alone.

X: I guess we all are.

Sam: Yes, we are.

X: Even the birds?

Sam: Why would they weep so much, if they weren't?

X: They see how we feel.

Sam: They sure do.

X: Who?

Sam: The birds.

X: Oh, yes.

Sam: What are we doing here?

X: Listening to the birds.

Sam: No, we are doing something else.

X: Yes.

Sam: Tell me what it is.

X: I can't.

Sam: Why not?

X: You already know.

Sam: I see.

X: Yes.

Sam: This conversation is pointless.

X: Is it?

Sam: I don't know.

X: I don't think so. Why should it be?

Sam: Where is it leading?

X: Into nothingness.

Sam: As do we.

X: What?

Sam: Fading into nothingness.

X: Are we?

Sam: Yes.

X: Yes.

Sam: But it's okay.

X: It is.

Sam: The birds will remember.

X: Remember what?

Sam: Us. They will sing about our end.

X: But nobody will know.

Sam: Nobody will.

X: It doesn't matter..

Sam: ... as long as we have each other.

X: Do we?

Sam: Do we what?

X: Have ourselves?

Sam: Why are you doubting?

X: How couldn't I be?

Sam: You are doubting too much.

X: Do you know why?

Sam: Why what?

X: Why I have those doubts.

Sam: What doubts?

X: I don't know.

Sam: You do.

X: No.

Sam: No.

X: The birds have stopped.

Sam: I still hear them.

X: How?

Sam: Strangely.

X: That's not what I... Nevermind.

Sam: Go ahead.

X: How come you still hear them?

Sam: In my mind.

X: Oh.

Sam: Yes. Their chant is never leaving my head. It is filled up with the heavy, yet light notes they put in my ears, condemning me to hear them forever, long after I cease to exist.

X: After you cease to exist? What makes you so sure?

Sam: I simply know.

X: Explain it to me.

Sam: It's difficult.

X: What?

Sam: To explain this feeling.

X: What feeling?

Sam: Nothingness.

X: That is not what we are talking about.

Sam: It is what we are always talking about.

X: I forgot.

Sam: So did I.

X: Is this our purpose?

Sam: What purpose?

X: Why we exist. Why both of us are sitting here, talking nonsense.

Sam: But it is not nonsense.

X: It is.

Sam: Why are we even bothering?

X: How long have you been sitting here?

Sam: Good question; I don't know. Maybe a quarter of an hour, maybe a day, maybe my whole life.

X: The latter, probably.

Sam: I guess.

X: And now I'm here, with you.

Sam: Without me.

X: Without you?

Sam: I'm not here.

X: We both are.

Sam: Yet we are not.

X: Strange.

Sam: But true.

X: Yes.

Sam: I should probably leave.

X: You can't.

Sam: I can.

X: Then leave.

Sam: I won't.

X: You never will.

Sam: No.

X: I'm leaving you, however.

Sam: You'll come back.

X: Will I? Or won't I?

Sam: You need me.

X: And you need me.

Sam: No.

X: Why were you waiting here for me, if you don't need me?

Sam: I wasn't waiting for you.

X: You were.

Sam: No I wasn't. I was listening to them.

X: Listening to who?

Sam: The birds.

X: What's so special about them?

Sam: Nothing. I just like their voice.

X: No you don't. You never did.

Sam: Why would I be listening to them, if I didn't?

X: You are listening to yourself.

Sam: How?

X: You sure know what they are weeping into the woods.

Sam: My sorrow.

X: Why does it exist?

Sam: What?

X: Your sorrow.

Sam: I don't know.

X: No one does.

Sam: I do.

X: Of course.

Sam: My very existence.

X: Your very existence what?

Sam: No idea.

X: It does not matter.

Sam: Nothing does.

X: And yet, everything does.

Sam: Does what?
X: What were we talking about?

Sam: That you are leaving me.

X: But I am not.

Sam: You never are.

X: You were alone, some time ago, however.

Sam: I still am.

X: The same way I am?

Sam: No, you have me.

X: And you have me.

Sam: Could be.

X: You are right.

Sam: I want to be alone.

X: But you are.

Sam: Leave me, please.

X gets up, ready to leave.

Sam: Don't leave.

X sits down.

Sam: Thank you.

X: What for?

Sam: For staying with me.

X: You are still alone.

Sam: I forgot.

Silence.

Sam: What a lovely view.

X: View of what?

Sam: Of life.

X: There isn't any.

Sam: There is plenty.

X: I see.

Sam: Yet, there's just as much death.

X: Isn't it beautiful?

Sam: What?

X: Death.

Sam: Yes.

X: Yet it aches so much. For those who are left behind.

Sam: Such is life's very nature.

X: It hurts.

Sam: It is supposed to.

X: Why?

Sam: Imagine not feeling at all.

X: Terrible.

Sam: Not anymore terrible than the status quo.

X: What is the status quo?

Sam: Us two, sitting here, talking nonsense.

X: Yet it makes so much sense to me.

Sam: It shouldn't.

X: Why?

Sam: What is worse? Not understanding our misery or knowing that we cannot change it in any way?

X: But we can change it.

Sam: No, we can't.

X: You are right.

X begins to weep. Stops again.

X: Sorry.

Sam: It doesn't matter.

X: No, it doesn't.

Sam: Nothing does.

X: Neither our conversation, neither the singing of the birds.

Sam: They are gone.

X: I've noticed quite some time ago.

Sam: What happened?

X: They all died.

Sam: In such short time?

X: It is not short at all.

Sam: Maybe not.

X: I am leaving now.

Sam: Are you coming back?

X: I don't know.

Sam: You do.

X: No.

X leaves. A single bird flies towards Sam, lands on his knee, and bites him.

Sam: As if you hadn't hurt me enough already. But it does not matter. This scar won't make the difference. Nothing will. He will weep as sorrowful as the others did, not knowing that they sing the symphony of life. I never let their chant touch me. I should have earlier. Or maybe I shouldn't have. It aches too much, hearing it permanently in my head. I'm condemned to listening to the painfully beautiful melody they cry for the rest of my, let's call it existence. Oh little did I know what it was all about. I wish I could forget all of this. Everything is, yet nothing is. I am, yet I'm not. But this monologue is pointless. I shouldn't speak anymore. Something hinders me to stop. Nobody is carefully listening to the melody, enjoying it in ignorance. Ignorance might be the only protection against pain and sorrow. It protects one from weeping. What one does not know, one is not saddened by. I seek ignorance. But it is impossible. Hence I shall stop, as this has been the last piece.

Silence and curtain

Author's Note

I'm not a native speaker, so please excuse my committing some mistakes.
Moreover, Sam (not my real name) is supposed to be my emotional self and X my intellectual self.
I would appreciate any constructive criticism!:)