L O R E L E I

Life is dull. Empty. Pointless.

I've long lost my childish views, my innocent and cheerful vision of the world. The years have made me bitter and devoid of hope - mostly. Gradually noticing all the darkness that exists around us as I grew up, I still assumed there must be some sort of balance between dark and light, good and bad, black and white... But I'm not confident about it. The world is a massive and grey area, and the universe doesn't appear to be concerned about every little creature living in it. We are small and negligible, powerless and weak against greater forces, dominating numerous parts of our lives without our consent, compelled to bear with it and be grateful, for others have it worse.

The moment I began asking questions about when and how and who and why...

Why?

The minute I started to wonder why, about something, about everything, nothing made sense anymore.

I've come to realize there is no purpose to life, to my life. Indecisive as I am, I can only entertain the idea as a possibility among many others, waiting to be corrected, wanting to be proven wrong and shown that there is a reason for my existence, a point to my suffering, a justification for the way I am.

Being different is a double-edged sword, You're either Special or insignificant. There's hardly a middle ground, and blending in can prove to be more work than you'd expected, or even have the disposition- or will - to accomplish it.

For those who are special, they might encounter hardships, but it is usually worth it. Their ability, raw or properly honed, is bound to shine and lighten their path. They're 'destined' for greatness, in their lifetime or beyond it.

For the less fortunate, those without unique skills, there's just suffering. No remarkable creation, no favorable outcome, only more pain and trouble than its worth.

It was difficult to accept it at first but after some thinking and ...

Oh, shoot! Who am I kidding? I'm never accepting it! Who would accept such a thing?

Someone who wants a less miserable life, a more peaceful life?

Not me. I'm not only concerned about well living, I'm in need of thriving.

Although this internal turmoil is hard to ignore, a periodically renewed distraction can make it bearable - almost.

Death is a good concept to dwell on and getting people involved is pretty fun. It's good enough to occupy my time and take my mind off other unwelcomed thoughts.

How long am I going to live off one temporary fix or the other?

I know I'm only delaying the inevitable. There's a breaking point to reach, it's just a matter of when.

Wishing things were different or hoping for something else won't change anything, so why do I secretly cling to it so much?

Desperation?

I wish I was better, stronger.

I wish I could do more, be more.

I wish I wasn't just another wasted human life on this planet.

I wish I mattered more. 

I wish I mattered at all. 

I wish there was something greater in store for me in this world. Forget that, I wish I had a say in the matter. 

I wish I had more control. I wish I had more power.