My life is not a "story" nor is it an adventure.
Perhaps my life is the consequences of mistakes made so long ago.
I can't said I've ever truly understood the reality of living or the existence of myself but what is it they say "here one day gone the next" yes I suppose they're is some truth in that
But the uncertainty is what kills me.
The uncertainty of waking up one day but not the next.
It will happen to all of us eventually
And when it does will I feel complete?
Safe?
Or will it be a nightmare...
Full of confusion and chaos
Will I see myself the way we see actors on the screen. So be the case I would rather not.
If it takes me to die to truly understand the weight of life then why put up with it to begin with
Tell me why does everything need a start to finish. granted I would prefer to not be around forever but the pressure of it all makes it not worth it.
The constant checking of the clock just to make sure I didn't waste that extra minute. It's all so exhausting.
If I could explain it in a sentence it would be that. Exhausting. In a way readers have found the loophole.
We have found a way to live multiple lives. Lives catered to our needs and wants
But as soon as you close that book then that's it. Your back whether you like it or not...
Now that. Is the bane of my existence
