savior334
Sacred is a lie older people tell younger people.
Older people are afraid of change, and don't want
younger people trying to change things.
Most people fall for it.
"It's a long way down," he though to himself.
The crisp water swayed below him.
A water droplet fell from his cheek.
Then he followed it.
Sometimes I feel like I'm a toy.
Sitting in my packaging, waiting
patiently to be played with or talked to.
Someday, I won't be fun anymore,
and I'll be discarded.
I take comfort in the fact that
today is not that day.
I am not human.
I am much less.
I only hurt those
I feel are close to me.
I belong in the ground.
Even there, I would be
surrounded by things
greater than I.
People give the advice:
If you could do anything with your life,
what would you do?
I don't really know my answer to that question,
but I think few really do.
Maybe I would adventure around the world,
Or perhaps I would work at a particle accelerator,
Rewriting the laws of physics.
It's unrealistic, however
To expect to ever get to do these things.
Looking at life this way
makes it seem so futile.
We are just amoebas
stuck on some pebble.
A clock is ticking down.
It brings nothing.
Before then, we have to fit in everything.
I wonder if it would be best.
To nullify myself.
Remove all impact,
all evidence,
good or bad
of my existence.
Erase myself.
I wish it were that easy.
I wish they could just
stare blankly at the
torn page that says
"forget me" and
do as it says.
I hide.
I hide from everyone.
I hide from people.
I hide from light.
I hide from those who
are close to me.
I hide from myself.
I preoccupy myself
with the desire for
invisibility and anonymity.
I refuse to leave my
dark little hiding place.
I'm not convinced
I would be happy
out there.
I'm sometimes happy
in here.
I hope that's enough.
As I stand on the edge of the world,
pondering my own mortality, I am
reminded of how I got here. A bad
egg in the pouch. It's a fitting end
to someone such as myself: half
comical, half grave. I realize that
I will only miss one thing from this
world, the only thing worth protecting.
Is it wrong to protect it with a lie?
Life is sort of like eggs.
Sometimes you can clearly
see the sunny side.
Other times, everything gets
all scrambled up.
You just have to hope that
at the end of the day, you
have some pepper to help
you through the tough eggs.
It's difficult to explain
why we do the things we do.
Why we feel the way we do.
Our minds are at war with themselves.
The end of these wars
create decisions.
My wars seem to never end.
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writing since 2011 · 14 entries · 14 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Samuel showed up.
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the words Samuel reaches for
hideworthtorchsometimeschopscrambledanymorewarseggshopehalflieclosehappywishwater