savior334

savior334

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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.

crisp

"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.

pouch

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.

force

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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on this day 15 years ago

Samuel wrote about force
“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.”

the words Samuel reaches for

hideworthtorchsometimeschopscrambledanymorewarseggshopehalflieclosehappywishwater