What somberly awakens, growls in the face of magnanimity becoming the essence of ugliness.
Those who try seek it perish at the atrocity as their final breathes are filled with trepidation and shrieks of foreboding cries that drown them in sorrow.
Why must one follow the path of a struggler, to finally recognize the allure the precious world holds for it cannot be begotten, and to that are those people in which woe.
From the small to the big. The big to the small. The weak to the strong. The strong to the weak. The cowardice to valor. The valor to cowardice. The good to bad. And the bad to good.
The path of a villain from a hero differs only in ideals. The subjective truth vs the objective truth. Rational thoughts hold no meaning. Thou shant beckon for revision, for whats done has been done.
Humankind will understand one day be it thousands of years in the future. To struggle is to thrive, and to thrive is to halt. Only then will the objective beauty, and the objective ugliness come to light over a crimson sky as though covered in blood. The moonlight shining in wake of blood curdling screams. As the water rises, the waves rise but also come crashing down.
And when that day comes. Will you be able to be beautiful? Will you be able to remember? Will you be able to regret? Are you willing to...
*
Hey, I have a question for you. Have you ever looked at something and pondered the beauty of it? To be specific, have you ever glanced over something be it a person or item or a speculation and feel… disappointment? Or maybe disgust? An individual person dictates norms like what's beautiful or obscene by their standards but I look at it from an objective perspective. The phrase 'beauty is in the eyes of the beholder' should be taken with a grain of salt. Who are we as people to decide what's beautiful, but more so what lacks beauty. If what dictates beauty are us humans, then what is true beauty? A question seemingly inconsequential but at the same time profound.
I can't seem to care enough to think about it. I believe we live in a grey world full of hollow hopes and empty dreams. The world we live in is an ignorant one created by our ignorant desires that we pass down through our kin. No one is truly evil or truly good. A good man could be a bad man in another persons viewpoint.
I walk over to a building, a dull looking one. A building that lacks emotion. A monotonous facility that has an absence of any notable features which is supposed to resemble a school. The environment matches the vibes... or lack thereof.
It's always quite cold here with the clouds masking the sun as though it's in a slumber giving a boring atmosphere all around.
I continue walking on the hard grey concrete sidewalk when something draws to my attention and I come to a stop... a tree. An evergreen tree towers over the vastness around me, multiple being lined up in a row similar to how militants line up in an orderly fashion. The decrepit tree stands before me proudly in wake as its surreal leaves ruffle as the wind blows while the stump stands herculean without a care...
But why? What does a tree represent? I walk past them every day and see them, but they don't register. But they are there and are always there. Trees depict life and growth and are the very essence of nature… so why do we barely notice them? Is it because its like they are apart of our everyday lives? It's pointless to even think about. I should just keep movi—
"Mrowwww!"
It looks at me with it's emerald coloured eyes brimmed with ferocity but ever so elegant. I stepped on a cat's tail unknowingly as I was enthralled by my own thoughts. Another careless mistake.
I get a good look at the feline staring me down intensively with it's claws extended and it's puffed-up fur as though it'll strike me down the moment I look away.
"I'm sorry, okay?"
I say with an apathetic expression.
The cat gives one final hiss as a retort and for me to rethink my actions as saying to back off. Well that's how I took it at least— although what a cat thinks doesn't matter anyways. It scurries along out into the forest to my left passing the tree that left me stumped to ponder the nature of it. It leaves a trail of subtle paw prints of mud with blades of grass poking out which gives the colourless sidewalk with a tint of nature.
Nonetheless I continue onward to the dull school life that's waiting ahead of me, and I mean it because these uniforms are suits textured grey with a black tie and with a plain beige pair of pants to top it off. It's absurd! Even though I usually have scruffy dark brown hair, near black, that of the ragged fur of the cat, which I never groom and near green eyes which make me look like an outsider. I rather these uniforms at least would look somewhat stylish. How plain could you possibly get?
I stare at a couple of girls walking together on the street to my right, and all appeal vanishes from my already emotionless face when I see those hideous uniforms. All attraction is lost, not that I had any to begin with. But at least they look content living their lives to what they call 'the fullest'. I hope one day I'll be able to see the world through their eyes. One day, I hope I'll find the purest form of beauty.
There's a warm breeze blowing to the right of my gaze as to catch my attention on what lies ahead. The school is right across the street ahead of me. I stop to sigh, and continue walking to the school adjacent—
"..."
—Although I never make it. In my mind a vision plays... No matter how many times I try to cross, I never make it. All I see is black, and there lies the body I once hosted, mangled up and distorted in a way that just by looking at it will make you nauseous enough to faint. So why is it... That I find pleasure, beauty in it? Do I? Am I beyond help, why do I feel serene? Am I truly this unholy?
A truck had crashed into me unannounced. I never lived how I wanted to. The last thought that poured inside my head was of the cat I had seen prior. And here I thought only black cats symbolized bad luck, huh.
My distorted mind went blank.
Why do I feel content.
Why do I feel whole.
Why do I feel... fulfilled.
I hear a voice.
"Do you feel beautiful?"
An undistinguishable voice calls out to me. I answer 'it's' question without hesitation.
No.
"Do you remember your name?"
I don't remember.
"Do you feel anything?"
I feel lost.
There was a brief pause, then the thing continues asking away it's fortuitous questions.
"Do you have any regrets?"
I do.
"...Do you wish to start over?"
I ponder it for a bit not understanding the weight of what has been asked. How would this work?
A sensation of excitement washes over me as I think of silly nonsense such as being transported to another world or gaining some special power.
I sat there— wherever there is —and the excitement was drowned by a surge of anguish and sorrow like being overwhelmed by a behemoth beneath the pearlescent moonlight being masked almost as if fading away by thick clouds.
I give my answer with the upmost certainty in my decision, though my life was fading, I could feel ever more so distant from the living.
I accept.