- Thursday, April 19, 2007

What's Left

He walked about, he looked around, everything seemed to be the same. Typically, his actions were that of a kid, but it didn't bother him. Sometimes, in fact, many times, he wonders the reasons of his actions, but then he realized that the same many times, reminded him of the need of love and attention.

Perhaps many had judged that he was a stupid useless coward, and he agreed. He remembered telling a friend that he was a coward simply because he wasn't ready for a friendship. But what shocked him (like crazy) was the reply, "WOAH! Why do you make it sound like a dating boy-girl-relationship? Nobody isn't ready for a normal typical friendship! And finally, huh, you admitted that you're a coward! I do agree on that!"

He learnt the lesson: It is never right for you to be vulnerable to people. The action of building up high walls upon higher walls was the mean to survival on planet earth, and every failure of doing so would increase the tendency to add another knife stabbed and hung on the chest of the victim, paralyzing him or her instantaneously.

He felt stupid, he felt rejected. After all, what was he supposed to feel? Gladness? Acceptance? Agreement (that he is a coward)? What was the point of feeling something that's not worth to feel at that moment anyway? He could trick himself, since he's good at masquerading and decorating masks, but what purpose would it serve? Could he feel a little better? Perhaps sometimes it's better to be honest with oneself, because the truth has hurt one until the wanting to feel jaded is jaded, and emotions wouldn't serve a true purpose anymore.

He wanted, so badly, for emotions to immobilize him, to hurt him, to tear him down. But all he felt was nothing, all he heard was silence, all he saw was darkness. Reach out, his rational mind screeched, but to who? How? When? Where? And most importantly, why? When others couldn't understand him, when others couldn't see the world he sees, an utopia he sets up crumbling down like sinking sand, why should he give himself the green light to reach out? Stupidity.

He cleared his mind of the voices, he looked about, trying not to let his tears give way and well in his eyes. He held his heart tightly and smashed it against the wooden table, instantly breaking it. He wanted the pleasure, the honor to shatter his heart himself. He didn't want others to do that for him, because if he did, it would hurt more, and it would drive him, perhaps, to insanity. Again he thought, stupidity.

Once, he used to believe that this world was meant to love him, but as time went, it wasn't so. It was meant to abandon him, and injure him. Break him. Immobilize him. Taunt him. Haunt him. Anger him. Irritate him. And after everything, kill him. And which is why, maybe, he couldn't see the point of loving others, what more, himself?

Maybe, once he thought, that his purpose on earth was to love others when he couldn't find it for himself. People deserve the best of me. Yes, yes, that was what he thought. But I tell you, it wasn't so true for him because whenever he gave, he tried to give with his whole heart, but all people see is the evil and should-be-abstained-from care. No wonder others detested him.

He wanted to show others the bitter fire burning in his eyes, the roaring silence within his heart, but could others see? If not, why show then?

Which is why, everything boils down to this...

Two words: what's left...

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