(I wrote this two or three years ago when I just started writing. I like it. It reminds me so much of what I used to write)
It’s just a button.
I’ve been here for hours just staring at it. What’s wrong with me? I’m being scared by a stupid button, a red, small, stupid button. What’s with me?
I’m staring at it. It’s so ordinary, so usual. Why can’t I just press it? It should mean nothing. Nothing! But, here I stand, not gaining or possessing any courage to just push it- to press it.
But I can’t press it because of him. I can’t do it because of what he told me…
He told me it would change my life. A simple button, that looks meaningless, can change my life…
But I can’t? I can’t change my life? Why can’t I? I don’t know. I don’t think I ever will. Maybe I’m too stupid. Maybe I’m too much of a coward. Maybe I’m too fragile. Maybe I’m too shallow. It could be one of a million reasons- and I could figure it out- I know I can.
But I’m sitting here staring at a button that’s going to change my life for me.
That’s pathetic.
I can’t change my life. Even through all of the hard work I’ve done, I can’t do it. So I have to rely on a button?
I’ve been doing a horrible job taking care of my life. I always have. It’s just who I am, and that frustrates me. I want to do something about it, but I can’t. I never will. My whole life I’ve been telling myself every night that tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow I will be a hero of my own heart, an adventurer carving a new path, a wise man making no wrong, or a prophet who knows all that is held in the future.
I lied to myself every night. I knew I could never be any of those things. But I had to lies to myself. It made me… feel better.
I never believe myself though.
Then, suddenly, I’m dragged into this white room with promises of a better life.
At least… I think it’s a better life.
They didn’t tell me if the button would make my life better or worse, but really, how much worse can my life get?
Looking down at the button I see it’s taunting me. It’s showing me I’m too scared to push it. It knows I’m scared.
I’m scared of a button…
No, I’m not! I will not be terrified! I am not scared of a button!
I am scared of change.
I’m scared of the risk…
But I have to make that risk! A better life is waiting for me!
Isn’t it?
What will this button do?!
I have no idea. But I can’t be here forever.
I have to forget all of this nonsense and just…
Press it.
No…No…No…
I won’t.
I hate this button. Why does it have the power to change my life? -It of all things. I can think of a lot more things that deserve that power, not a button.
But it’s a button. It isn’t a puzzle, a journey. I just have to press it.
But would it be the right thing? Certainly, someone can’t just press a button and have a different life. It’s too simple- too easy. Life shouldn’t be manipulated by something as plain as a button.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of the Broken
PoesíaThere are voices that cannot be drowned, and writings that cannot be burned. That is because they have found worse and have slowly learned. And this is true. From them, comes the Collection of the Broken.