Why is life such a beautiful lie, and death such a painful truth? We grow up learning we are cherished...loved. That we all have a purpose and we're going to make it far in life. Well, I guess things decide to go fall down that magic rabbit hole for us, didn't they? Having never been loved, never will get a job, never get to travel, never will get out of my own stupid pitiful emotions, and ever learn to feel again. When people ask what my purpose was, the only response will be the silence that will one day consume me. And in that silence death stares back at me. It's all I can see, the only thing life ever planned for me. Which makes me wonder, am I crazy? No one outside my group, the other messed up people out there, who are kept up at night by voices in their heads, will EVER understand. That hurts, but why should anyone understand what can't be explained. Why listen to the pitiful cries of others, who are finally ready to crack, when it's easier to just ignore and move on. Are the words that whisper in my mind, through the dark, infecting my life light, are they all true? They must be, it's all I've known and all I ever will.
~ (credit goes to sheepandpotatoes cause i borrowed the main idea from them)
YOU ARE READING
Little sad storys
RandomJust small works, i wrote in my spare time. (They may be a bit sad IDK)
