There are times when you can’t decide what the worst thing in life is.
Everything is bleak and even the cold seems sad. Gloomy.
I don’t really know what’s missing. Come to think about it, there are a lot of things I can’t figure out. Life is this tight lipped mystery I can’t get to talk. It has soulful eyes dripping of silent sadness and a face of granite, with no consideration in it.
Everytime I try to start anew, it comes back and haunts me.
And I’ve reached the conclusion. There are no such things as fresh starts. This is not a movie where you can have a minor concussion and forget all the shit you’ve faced and all the people you hate. Or all the people you love and put on a show for.
I am no genius, no Einstein. Oh, that word reminds me of someone. I’d rather not mention it further.
I am surrounded by people (idiots) who think about nothing but studying a set course, a path already swept up in front of them and all they plan to do is step on it. Easy shit.
And here I am, enclosed by darkness. I have, yet, to make a path. A stone path full of rocks. I know I’ll bleed and I know I’ll get scars.
But I refuse to be a dummy, to be just another person in this field.
I’ll figure my life out myself. All these idiots around me with an ambition as low as anything, I know I’m standing out. Everyone seems to hate me (not that I give a shit) maybe because I’m just different.
I always was


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