The path leading to ones death and destruction.

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I always knew I aimed to high. Always knew I lived in my own fantasy, slowly creating my own shell around me, filling in the cracks with sticks and things made up of false hope.
Now I lie here my shell shattered as I'm surrounded by dirt and insects seeping into a wooden coffin, decomposing my empty vessel that tried so hard to be better than everyone.

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Its what happens when someone like me enters the void we call life.

(okay so warning, take everything you read lightly and don't think about it to much. All of what's written is for entertainment purposes and shouldn't be taken to heart or deeply thought about.)
~

Its sad to think about how from the moment I was born this path of mine was already planned, how if there was a very slight difference or ripple, it would've been different. But their was no ripple, there was no change, and so I grew up blinded to the path I was taken. The only time my sight recovered when I was simply dead, and deleted from the life I had.

The purpose of the void called life is so mysterious though. Why created such a glorified creature, give it it's own soul, let it breath the air of the would its been born into? The creature will soon die anyway, soon be forgotten even if they were so noble in the path they lived. Sure, another creature might see something that reminded them of the deceased, but they are soon to shake off the memory. So what's the point? I don't get how to beings pledge to each other they'll always remember them, when there are times they would never remember them at all. The only memories would be vague ones that would soon get replaced with another anyway.

Sometimes I find myself on this topic often, wondering my purpose on why I was put on the path I was chosen to be placed on. I normally just swat all the thoughts away though. What was done is already done, so why dwell on it? Maybe because I'm stuck in the world of nothing now, will all the time on my hands with absolutely nothing to do. I suppose maybe that's why I tend to dwell on the past of my egotistical self.

I was raised thinking that I can do whatever I wanted. Not in the terms of me being a rowdy child, I was a well behaved kid. Just future wise, were I would be able to achieve whatever I wanted because I was a smart, polite kid. I didn't even study either, which I guess in a way made my ego worse.

I believed that if I was kind, smart, and kissed everyone's ass then people would like me. Because if I am all those things why wouldn't they? All that I had in my head was 'I'm such a likable person' so I can get them to do as I please. If they wouldn't help me in anyway I didn't care about them either. I didn't release I thought that though, if that makes sense. Only when I was seeing my laugh flash before my eyes did I realize I had the ego the size of Earth.

Seeing the life flash before my eyes was not what I expected the salient moment to be. Rather it wasn't salient at all, it was more monotonous and uneventful. I'm sure for other beings the moment was very emotional and outstanding, but the way I seen it made me dread it as each quick flash passed from one tiresome memory to the other. It was like I wasn't watching my life, but someone else's that shared my memories... a very terrible  and vain person.

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I really should have realized the type of person I was sooner.

~

Sometimes I wonder if everyone who passes ends up like me, stuck in this futile darkness. If they remember how they died, or if they are here in their demented thoughts. Maybe we all are here but are never able to communicate, having all our thoughts simply miss each other by a septillionth of a gram.

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⏰ Last updated: Jun 08, 2021 ⏰

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