A/N : This chapter is a little different. I was debating whether or not to include it because it seemed more personal than my poetry. Instead of a poem, it's one of my journal entries. I hope you like it though.
Yours Truly,
Freddie
Honestly life is pointless. We spend so much time establishing a life just to lose it all in the end when we die. It’s so sad that we spend so much time working for things and establishing relationships. Why do we do this? In the end, nothing we’ve done or had will matter because we’ll lose it all. And even sadder is the fact that WE don’t matter. We’ll all die and someday be forgotten, like we never even existed in the first place. Sometimes I think there would be no difference between me dying today or 50 years from now. Either way I’ll just be forgotten. Sure, my friends might be Sad if I died today, but eventually they’ll die too and they won’t even remember me. It’s a terrible thought, but it’s also true. Things can go from mattering to not mattering to not mattering so quickly. Lives can be forgotten so easily and that has got to be the loneliest thought.
YOU ARE READING
Words of the Damaged
PoetryWords. This book is simply just words. And words are simply just letters and whether you chose to read said letters or not is entirely up to you.
