"Death is inevitable, life is crushing. Is there an inbetween? Yes, the listlessness of being alive yet colors blend and voices blur. Faces pass and family become strangers. In this state, you wish to scream, to tell the world that you aren't dead.
Yet inside is a husk of a person. Once full of joy and optimism for the future. A person with elaborate and grand dreams for the future. This person is now full of cynicism and contempt. Able to see the worst in the most recluse stranger based solely on preconceived biases.
Why must I see the worst of a person? I want to see it. I want to see the secret everybody is hiding from me. Why? Why do you smile when you see me? Father is it love that is hidden in the eyes of a being full of favoritism?
In a situation where you must choose between me and my sister, will it be me you choose father? No, I see it. The pity I deserve and the love my sister requires are given just as it should be.
Grandma, why do you treat me as the favorite child? Is it because you see it? The favoritism of father. No, it cannot be. You are too self absorbed within the small confines of life you have left. The regrets of youth can easily be seen eating you alive. You favor me because my sister reminds you of the hate you hold for yourself and the world.
Mother, why did you not love us? Never within those eyes filled with pure selfishness has a speck of love grown for the families you've sired throughout countless husbands. Has the abuse broken you? Is childhood depraved from you? Once were you filled with innocence? You mother, is the one I most despise. Yet, you are the one I most understand.
I wish to tear myself apart. To crawl up into a ball and be consumed by delusions and fantasies of grand mythos. I wish to become these characters where their struggles matter. In these worlds where even at the lowest in their small lives defined within these pages they have hope for a better tomorrow.
Give me back these worlds. Give it back. I can't stand this cold world full of gray and black dichotomy. I want love just as much as everybody else, I deserve it. I demand it! Give me a delusion of intense happiness. I wish to be consumed within. To feel the exhilaration of perseverance without the pain of futile struggle.
As much as I struggle for freedom to be consumed, Reality denies me. I have responsibilities. I have a future, while bleak might still hold an ember of hope. I am not the most pitiful. The poor struggle and struggle yet are denied basic human rights due to discrimination whether it be because of race or other differences.
That is the conundrum, why are these people so full of life yet they wish to steal more from those who lack? Let me give an example, a most obvious example within American society. You are black.
I do not need to say more if you understand the basics of American society. Yet, this in of itself is degrading. Why are you thinking what you are thinking?
Is it because you are indeed black and you've experienced the cruelty of being a minority within a population of those who couldn't possibly truly understand you?
Maybe it's because you're a self-righteous crusader for the rights of those who look back with contempt?
Or maybe you truly understand you do not understand. The pain, the shame, the humiliation of being looked at differently. That no matter how much one progresses, a single setback is more severe comparably speaking.
Which one I am will be left to the imagination, as even if I hide behind these words, I truly hide behind my conscience.
I have hope. I am young. I am allowed to make mistakes without society shredding me to pieces. But I'm close, close to feeling the metaphorical weight of society. And it scares me. I'm terrified, oh so terrified. It's to the point of wishing to run away and join a monastery to forget the troubles of life.
The expectations of life must frighten you too. No matter what, I know it does. When life comes calling, you may struggle but it always comes. The bads of life. Heartbreak, death of loved ones, economic failure, humiliation, failure.
These pains of life are inevitable, and I fear each and every one of them. There is no way to escape… I lied. There is one way to escape.
Escape to the furthest reaches of fantasia. Let the delusions consume you. Forget the world. Let it be consumed by the grays and blacks. But hold tight to your delusions. It is these delusions that let you escape, at a price that is.
These fears that life presents, they will come knocking. And when they come, they will hurt all the more, for you've reduced your exposure to them.
When the final big bad comes. How will it happen? Death that is. Will it be painful? A crash perchance? A semi-truck squishing you between another semi-truck? Or maybe silent… cold. Inconsequential. No achievements to your name.
There is a saying that you die twice, once when you actually die and another when your name is said for the final time. Do you not wish to be immortal? Just accomplish a deed so significant that it's told for time immemorial.
Why then do I not care? So what if I die and no one remembers me. The only thing that matters in the end is that I know who I am.
When you crutch a bug, do you believe it cries out with fear? I don't. I think it cries out in pain. That is the limit such an insignificant creature can express. If there existed an individual of greater ability to be self aware maybe they too think that the death of one human is of no consequence.
We kill. We kill humans, animals, insects, bacteria, plants…hope. Humans are murderers. Yet, plenty of creatures kill. Why is it that death from afar is so irrelevant? I do not know.
I don't know plenty of things. I've been blessed with a greater perception than most but that pales to those with greater perception than me. You might see this for example and just see the rambling of a madman, or you see. You see the pain but you see something more, something I can't. This saddens me.
Why do I not appreciate it? The warmth of life, the pain of existence, the meaningfulness of a story with an end? I do not like stories that end. It hurts. It crushes my delusions of internal struggle and prosperity. It reminds me that just as this story ends, one day my life will too.
Why do I write these words? They hurt me. They show my vulnerability. I am expressing to you, me. Yes, me. I wish to show you me, that is why I write these words. I wish for just one more individual to know me. It's so lonely, this world of grays.
I don't want to see, I want to feel! To feel alive. To feel love. To feel admiration. Let me! Let it come, the pain, the struggle, the thoughts. I accept it, the burden that comradery brings. So please accept me in return.
Signed, hehe you don't need to know ;)"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cops surround a brutal scene, sadness well hidden through experience is barely observable behind their eyes.
"What information do you have of the deceased, Mr.Weild?", an FBI detective asks the lead police officer on the scene.
While not much time has passed since an unspoken tragedy that made the heavens weep, this supposed officer proceeds to deliver what information he has, too much information if you ask me—shh no one asked you.
"Sir, young adult age 19, male, lives alone, seems to have recently moved out due to family conflict. I…uh, death seems to be occult. A knowledgeable officer said it seems similar to an ancient viking ritual execution dedicated to pagan gods. Quite gruesome"
The officer is shaken remembering the horrific ritual site, the obviously nice living room purposefully arranged to best align with the constellations that I…uh the young man enthusiastically researched.
The scene stops, motionless.
"Hey derp why'd you stop it? I just started getting invested. Does the officer recover from the shocking scene? Does he live happily ever after, or does a tragedy unfold?"
"..."
"No answer? Tch, you're no fun. Hey, then how about the detective? Does he rummage through my pc? If you answer, I might consider your proposal."
The creature deadpans at the young man's nonchalance
A guttural reply, " Yes, young one. Now let's discuss. Give it."
The young man looks frightened for a second, which pleases the devil shaped creature, that is until he reads the young man's surface thoughts.
'Wait wut, FBI agents actually sniff through your stash? Damn, at least it doesn't actually matter after death, woulda gave me a heart attack if i still had a heart, heh..he..hahaha. Damn, I'm a comedian.'
"No you fool! Your soul, hand it over. As the rightful demonic overseer of district 1026a23 all sacrificed souls belong to me in return for completing 1 single request of the sacrificer. Honestly, how are you even conscious? Your soul should be dormant after death until it withers out and turns to cosmic dust."
The young man turns towards the demonic creature in surprise, "you can read minds? Damn man what happened to respecting a person's privacy? People these days have no manners whatsoever."
Standing up and doing a little stretch, the young man continues after doing a little clap, "Well let's move past your unrefined manners, mr. Grotesque Creature please send me to a world of fantasy. Of course as is part of the contract, my soul is forfeit after my death, so no worries."
After a look of anger, a look of enlightenment went over the dull creatures face, "Don't call me dull in that tiny head of yours, you fool. What kind of idiot sacrifices themselves? Actually nevermind, a bunch of people do. But of course none of those idiots do it right!"
Anger returning to its face that a mother could only love, " Fine! Begone from my domain you fool, have fun in the world of your dreams hehe, your soul is mine after you die anyways."
As the chimpanzees ass talks…
"You bitch!"
Air is rapidly flashing around as the dark expanse of the creature domain suddenly changes to the expanse of stars. Two bright moons in the sky looking down in scorn the first clue that something was very wrong.