An introduction to my mind

Statue

If you ever really wanted to be someone, then you should have been more comfortable with making big decisions, even though everyone said that they were not going anywhere, but you should have tried harder, really tried, but you never try. No matter how much you try to try, you still keep sitting there, forever and ever and ever, and you keep saying that you're somehow going to be really successful and life is going great but it's not. You're not trying to make any progress, you're not taking any risks. The butterflies are flying away, and you're not doing anything. You're making promises and forgetting how much they meant to you, and nothing happens. Your life is brown and dull, and you're losing your color and your mind and your life along with every passion you ever felt every passing day. The light in your eyes burnt out long ago, and you have denied yourself every time you tried to fix it. Your "reality" is eating away the dreams in your mind that once made people feel love and happiness, but now your dreams have turned black and white, the music in your head silenced by those words of the people you followed echoing in your head. You've isolated yourself from the beauty in the world, and in yourself, and those who loved you have isolated you from their love, because your life has faded, never to return again. You've become a nothing more than a blank-eyed, soulless statue of your former self, like the ones you always told yourself you would soon sculpt yourself, and you have, but it is unloved and unappreciated because it is such an unpleasant sight to see someone you loved turn to stone. No-one else can even know, even if you told them yourself, who that woebegone boulder once was and what he told everyone he was to become. A hero, you said, a star, like none before. That bright, shining star in your future has faded, and your colorful past the same.