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There are so many things that I fear. I think, and I wonder, "What If..".
Everyday I pass people in the street and think to myself, are they really happy about what they've done with their life? Have their dreams been fulfilled?
It makes me kinda sad. Will I live my life not having affected anyone elses for the good? I will just be a forgotten memory in the minds of my far-gone children when I'm long dead. Life is so short, and I feel I've already wasted so much on meaningless arguments, tat and nothingness.
We only have so long. And there is my second fear : death. I once cried when I was younger about what it'd be like when my grandparents go, and it has haunted me since that one day, in the future, the sky and everything beneath it will turn black and I will feel the world no more.
The thought of ageing terrifies me. I never understood before why people hated being 40/50/60, more. But now I know. One day we'll all have to face that sky of black.
I'd never want to live for ever, and I'd never cut life short. But what happens if I can't do everything I want in life? See the world, meet new friends.
And then, theres the fact that : what's the point? It's so likely that in 70 years from now I'll be six feet under and why am I wasting a quarter of my life training for the rest of it.
And if I get a dead-end job?
And if I'm lonely? Oh, to be lonely. It's the worst but most likely thing in the world, to leave this world alone. To go silently from this reality to a light we cannot see, a place we cannot touch, a hymn we cannot hear.
I fear that I'll always be planning for tommorow. Never living the real, the day, the now.
Call me cynical, melodramatic or even just miserable. I fear all these things and more and wonder, whats the point? For the blink of an eye that I'm here, I'll probably do nothing more than the crowd.
Everyday I pass people in the street and think to myself, are they really happy about what they've done with their life? Have their dreams been fulfilled?
It makes me kinda sad. Will I live my life not having affected anyone elses for the good? I will just be a forgotten memory in the minds of my far-gone children when I'm long dead. Life is so short, and I feel I've already wasted so much on meaningless arguments, tat and nothingness.
We only have so long. And there is my second fear : death. I once cried when I was younger about what it'd be like when my grandparents go, and it has haunted me since that one day, in the future, the sky and everything beneath it will turn black and I will feel the world no more.
The thought of ageing terrifies me. I never understood before why people hated being 40/50/60, more. But now I know. One day we'll all have to face that sky of black.
I'd never want to live for ever, and I'd never cut life short. But what happens if I can't do everything I want in life? See the world, meet new friends.
And then, theres the fact that : what's the point? It's so likely that in 70 years from now I'll be six feet under and why am I wasting a quarter of my life training for the rest of it.
And if I get a dead-end job?
And if I'm lonely? Oh, to be lonely. It's the worst but most likely thing in the world, to leave this world alone. To go silently from this reality to a light we cannot see, a place we cannot touch, a hymn we cannot hear.
I fear that I'll always be planning for tommorow. Never living the real, the day, the now.
Call me cynical, melodramatic or even just miserable. I fear all these things and more and wonder, whats the point? For the blink of an eye that I'm here, I'll probably do nothing more than the crowd.
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But one thing.
I'm not actually sure if that was "you" writing it, or if it was story form.
Well written if it was the latter.
I'm not actually sure if that was "you" writing it, or if it was story form.
Well written if it was the latter.
Excellent.
There are so many things that I fear. I think, and I wonder, "What If..".
Everyday I pass people in the street and think to myself, are they really happy about what they've done with their life? Have their dreams been fulfilled?
It makes me kinda sad. Will I live my life not having affected anyone elses for the good? I will just be a forgotten memory in the minds of my far-gone children when I'm long dead. Life is so short, and I feel I've already wasted so much on meaningless arguments, tat and nothingness.
We only have so long. And there is my second fear : death. I once cried when I was younger about what it'd be like when my grandparents go, and it has haunted me since that one day, in the future, the sky and everything beneath it will turn black and I will feel the world no more.
The thought of ageing terrifies me. I never understood before why people hated being 40/50/60, more. But now I know. One day we'll all have to face that sky of black.
I'd never want to live for ever, and I'd never cut life short. But what happens if I can't do everything I want in life? See the world, meet new friends.
And then, theres the fact that : what's the point? It's so likely that in 70 years from now I'll be six feet under and why am I wasting a quarter of my life training for the rest of it.
And if I get a dead-end job?
And if I'm lonely? Oh, to be lonely. It's the worst but most likely thing in the world, to leave this world alone. To go silently from this reality to a light we cannot see, a place we cannot touch, a hymn we cannot hear.
I fear that I'll always be planning for tommorow. Never living the real, the day, the now.
Call me cynical, melodramatic or even just miserable. I fear all these things and more and wonder, whats the point? For the blink of an eye that I'm here, I'll probably do nothing more than the crowd.
Everyday I pass people in the street and think to myself, are they really happy about what they've done with their life? Have their dreams been fulfilled?
It makes me kinda sad. Will I live my life not having affected anyone elses for the good? I will just be a forgotten memory in the minds of my far-gone children when I'm long dead. Life is so short, and I feel I've already wasted so much on meaningless arguments, tat and nothingness.
We only have so long. And there is my second fear : death. I once cried when I was younger about what it'd be like when my grandparents go, and it has haunted me since that one day, in the future, the sky and everything beneath it will turn black and I will feel the world no more.
The thought of ageing terrifies me. I never understood before why people hated being 40/50/60, more. But now I know. One day we'll all have to face that sky of black.
I'd never want to live for ever, and I'd never cut life short. But what happens if I can't do everything I want in life? See the world, meet new friends.
And then, theres the fact that : what's the point? It's so likely that in 70 years from now I'll be six feet under and why am I wasting a quarter of my life training for the rest of it.
And if I get a dead-end job?
And if I'm lonely? Oh, to be lonely. It's the worst but most likely thing in the world, to leave this world alone. To go silently from this reality to a light we cannot see, a place we cannot touch, a hymn we cannot hear.
I fear that I'll always be planning for tommorow. Never living the real, the day, the now.
Call me cynical, melodramatic or even just miserable. I fear all these things and more and wonder, whats the point? For the blink of an eye that I'm here, I'll probably do nothing more than the crowd.
Page: