To think that the prelude to my future would be like this, a melancholic, distant tune of eternal emptiness…
a melody of mixed emotions and feelings. but, apathetic.
you are about to witness a stream of incomprehensible, torrent, of text. vague, ambiguous text that heeds no wisdom, contains no thought, void of such entity called structure.
nullified, i aimlessly fire my words. i write, such pointless literature. with no particular reason, i caress my canvas and brush my uncollected mind towards nothingness.
i was thinking of the present. my present state of existence. should my present state satisfy my dear, future of choice? no.
i was thinking of what action i should execute. should my selection confirm the assurance of my satisfaction? no.
i was thinking of other beings. should they suffice my incompleteness? no.
i was thinking of my death. would i die now? later? tomorrow? i consciously wait for the arrival of my final hour. i am hoping, it would arrive. soon.
i was thinking, i might be dead.
the world i live in now is a memory. a world of certain unreality. a blank white colored world. satisfying? there is no notion of starvation in the first place. all, is there, but gone.
then what role am i to play in this farce? should i be the slave? the villager? the knight? the protagonist? no, i am them all! a hero who’s role is to consume everything in sight, dancing while tearing the theater apart. a drama. a drama whose audience is the drama itself.
an applause! there was an applause? no. it is the world breaking apart.
as the only actor in the stage, i kneel down and look up.
the sky… is bright.
i cannot look up after all. my eyes hurt from the brilliance of the shattering sky.
footsteps? no, there weren’t any. it’s just rubble from the falling earth.
the world is finally destroyed.
i wear the burden of conscience.
i wield the sword of lies.
i step on the ground of failure.
a blind man.
a deaf man.
but, still, rational.
only if there was no truth.