I was born a dreamer. I should have ripped off those dreams instead, for dreams are meant to be shattered.
First, I realized that not all my dreams will happen as I wanted. Next, I learned that failures are more frequent than successes. Soon, I realized that forever is merely a word. 'Friends forever' became a myth. Unconditional love was just fiction. And parents caring for me was just slightly different from nurturing a potential investment property. In such moments I realized that I was needed and not wanted, and all dreams, from the big and great ones to the small and simple ones, will simply destroy. Failing consistently, I saw that I was alone. I could make a team, or be a part of the team, but being a failure all along, I would just be a fragment no one would ever miss. A few mistakes I made, and I was judged on them. It's OK, for now I know that was not important, no were close to being significant. I am just a tiny speck. Blow me away, and one wouldn't bother to even find me! The scary part was, I never realized that I was the villain in my story. But it's OK, now I know my role. It is of dust, of the bystander, of a worthless being who existed merely because some people got horny some night.
It got worse. For everything going wrong around me, and to go through them alone, I started to feel that life itself was a lie, and started blaming the self. And so I decided to end it. But now I have decided to live!
I realize that if I die, it wouldn't hurt a soul, and wouldn't hurt me. So if death was to punish the self, wouldn't living be easier? Isn't living a miserable, lonely and ordinary long life punishment enough? Isn't having to live another day away from your dreams in the real world punishment enough? Isn't death merely the one good thing you give yourself? So I have decided to punish myself, by living a worthless long life.
He put down the blade and took a deep breathe. He had been postponing for quite sometime. Finding reasons to justify his existence. He crumbled his long note and threw it in the waste basket. Not that anyone would care what he wrote. The realization sunk in him deeply.
He found himself running out of reasons. Soon, his mind will be blank as his meaningless life. No more reasons to live. That day, the blade will laugh hysterically, for it's purpose will be served.
The blade waited, as so did his bike, rope, pills and everything else waiting their opportunity to take him to a world of emptiness. Because emptiness doesn't accompany loneliness, but the vast nothingness.
First, I realized that not all my dreams will happen as I wanted. Next, I learned that failures are more frequent than successes. Soon, I realized that forever is merely a word. 'Friends forever' became a myth. Unconditional love was just fiction. And parents caring for me was just slightly different from nurturing a potential investment property. In such moments I realized that I was needed and not wanted, and all dreams, from the big and great ones to the small and simple ones, will simply destroy. Failing consistently, I saw that I was alone. I could make a team, or be a part of the team, but being a failure all along, I would just be a fragment no one would ever miss. A few mistakes I made, and I was judged on them. It's OK, for now I know that was not important, no were close to being significant. I am just a tiny speck. Blow me away, and one wouldn't bother to even find me! The scary part was, I never realized that I was the villain in my story. But it's OK, now I know my role. It is of dust, of the bystander, of a worthless being who existed merely because some people got horny some night.
It got worse. For everything going wrong around me, and to go through them alone, I started to feel that life itself was a lie, and started blaming the self. And so I decided to end it. But now I have decided to live!
I realize that if I die, it wouldn't hurt a soul, and wouldn't hurt me. So if death was to punish the self, wouldn't living be easier? Isn't living a miserable, lonely and ordinary long life punishment enough? Isn't having to live another day away from your dreams in the real world punishment enough? Isn't death merely the one good thing you give yourself? So I have decided to punish myself, by living a worthless long life.
He put down the blade and took a deep breathe. He had been postponing for quite sometime. Finding reasons to justify his existence. He crumbled his long note and threw it in the waste basket. Not that anyone would care what he wrote. The realization sunk in him deeply.
He found himself running out of reasons. Soon, his mind will be blank as his meaningless life. No more reasons to live. That day, the blade will laugh hysterically, for it's purpose will be served.
The blade waited, as so did his bike, rope, pills and everything else waiting their opportunity to take him to a world of emptiness. Because emptiness doesn't accompany loneliness, but the vast nothingness.
