Memoirs of an Existentialist

Memoirs of an Existentialist

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Nov 6, 2016
This will simply be a jumble of my thoughts, as both a thinker and a writer. I often sit and wonder about the world and I'm sure many others have similar thoughts to me and it would be nice to have a place to share them with whomever else is as passionate about thinking as I am. So... If you, too, find yourself sitting alone in bed at 1 AM wondering why things work out the way they do and what life truly means... This story is for you! Feel free to comment your views as well.
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He had rules for a reason, or thats what he said. I did something wrong I got punished. I spoke out of turn, I got punished. I looked at him or ate without permission, I got punished. Haven thats what they named me funny isn't it? Ironic really. They named me Haven because my mom would say I was her 'Safe Haven'. What a pile of shit that was. She left willingly, she didn't depart because of some tragic accident. My father didn't kill her. She left because she was a coward who didn't want kids. As soon as my older brother went to college she left. I knew she hated me. I was the product of her love with another man. A constant reminder that her life didn't work out the way it was planned. He who ever he was is a phantom in its own. A deep rooted fantasy never going to come true. My brother left, my mother left, my grandma ignored, and my father broke. They let me give up hope on escaping and then decided to play hero. But I haven't forgotten everything I went through. Guilt consumes my brother but I don't care, you don't get to leave and then buy a reprieve of trying to save someone who has been dead for years. Besides lets just be honest I reached my breaking point long ago.

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