It'a all so lonely. So quiet. So distant. So much like a dream. I keep waiting, hoping I'll wake up. I close my eyes, open them again; nothing changes. Everything is the same. I am trapped, or that's how my body feels. My mind cannot go beyond these physical boundaries. It's stuck here forever, in a body of flesh and bones that give away at the slightest impact. After that, where will it go? Nowhere. It'll end right there.
So, there is no escape. Just a window to look at the world outside, and limbs to navigate it. No purpose. No goal. Just raw existence. Living, breathing, watching. Mute, dead, hollow. Time ticks by, without actually ticking. The end is coming, it's one second closer every time. The end of existence is coming. Only IT knows when.
It will take everything away from me. Everything I know and feel. The world will be gone, but the rest of will still have me, or what's left of me.
So why am I living? Just to die someday, and remain dead forever. I don't really know, but that's the way it seems to be for everyone else. All those who lived and died before us. They are never coming back. My life is no more important than theirs. My beliefs are no more firmer than theirs. My desires are no more stronger than theirs. They all are like me. I am like of all them. We are no different, just separated by time and body. I am no more alone than they were. We all are alone. In our minds, in our thoughts. We live. We die. The rest of it is meaningless. Everything we do, say and hear, holds meaning so long as we live. That's why the dead don't go to schools or attend concerts. Dead people don't react. To them, a dagger piercing their skin is the same as ice cream dripping down their hands. When everything around is the same, there can no meaning, no distinction.
But that's just my mind talking. It loves putting me down. It loves driving me towards insanity. It loves to make me contemplate death.
It maybe because everything around me makes me wish I was never born.
So, there is no escape. Just a window to look at the world outside, and limbs to navigate it. No purpose. No goal. Just raw existence. Living, breathing, watching. Mute, dead, hollow. Time ticks by, without actually ticking. The end is coming, it's one second closer every time. The end of existence is coming. Only IT knows when.
It will take everything away from me. Everything I know and feel. The world will be gone, but the rest of will still have me, or what's left of me.
So why am I living? Just to die someday, and remain dead forever. I don't really know, but that's the way it seems to be for everyone else. All those who lived and died before us. They are never coming back. My life is no more important than theirs. My beliefs are no more firmer than theirs. My desires are no more stronger than theirs. They all are like me. I am like of all them. We are no different, just separated by time and body. I am no more alone than they were. We all are alone. In our minds, in our thoughts. We live. We die. The rest of it is meaningless. Everything we do, say and hear, holds meaning so long as we live. That's why the dead don't go to schools or attend concerts. Dead people don't react. To them, a dagger piercing their skin is the same as ice cream dripping down their hands. When everything around is the same, there can no meaning, no distinction.
But that's just my mind talking. It loves putting me down. It loves driving me towards insanity. It loves to make me contemplate death.
It maybe because everything around me makes me wish I was never born.
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