Helpless, yes I cannot help it. There is no passion no fire burning within my heart and in the depths of my soul. It’s all just cold. So are my hands, they shiver when we touch and a tiny bit of my being disintegrates as I slowly start to realise that I’ve never felt human. I’ve never felt loved, so it’s you I push away and it’s the past in which I choose to stay.
And no I don’t like it, telling myself, begging myself to not feel anything, giving myself these stupid “talks” about how I should never let anyone in, it’s bullshit because somewhere along the line I will screw up. And then I’ll fall to my knees and beg God “please” that’s when I’ll say “I’m only human”, at least then I will have felt that way.
And I am aware that I don’t mean anything to this world, not the people who dwell here, the visitors, no I mean the world itself. This giant globe of oceans and seas, hills and mountains, countries separated by borders and humans by religion, beliefs and what not.
I mean nothing here, I’m a fly, an insect, a mere particle of dust sooner or later I’ll fly away and out of reach. I’ll be stomped over by someone larger or I’ll simply disappear like most insects do.
And I know what I am saying has been said before, not by one but many. The truth is I’m not different, I’m not special or unique, though I try to be.
I’ve come to accept that my words won’t always be remembered, neither will my existence. But what’s the point of being remembered or loved when you yourself will not be there to embrace it. I would rather be forgotten than have the living cry over me, show me pity because I died, well that’s kinda what happens to everyone. That’s the end and I’ve certainly accepted it.
But that doesn’t mean I do not fear it. Because I do.-H