Do You Remember Me?

As my creative prowess cripples with the passing years, I am reminded of the ever-present truth of reality that “adulthood” takes more than the reaper himself. Maybe I speak too strongly of the matter for someone who is freshly exposed to this significant portion of humanity, but I find myself slipping away with more ease than I ever could have under the security of my parents’ roof. I have selfishly allowed my esse, for lack of a more dramatic term, to be extracted from the familiarity of my adolescent stomping grounds and shredded in front of my inner child. In layman’s terms, I have acquired a temporary career, one in which my individuality is not the forefront of my decisions, and excellence is expected above all else for the betterment of the country’s future. How trite a thought. Nonetheless, whether it was due to passivity or deep-rooted loathing for myself that I am here, the universe shall never care to know. What must be done now is a revival of my passions lest I wish to flake away in the changing winds, find a fresh muse who brings forth with them anguish and obsession into my heart. I long for motivation, I long for clarity, I long for fragments of what I once was, to dream again in chromatic splendor of blues and reds and greens. Yesterday, I am unable, but today, I am willing. May time be in my favor.

Pursuing my journey through life, it has come to my attention that people find joy in the suffering of others. As such, I will soon join them in the darker side of reality, for where I am now is not a place I see fit for my untimely demise. I will excel in the multitudinous of lessons where the meaning of all things will be granted to me. Concluding the path of knowledge, I will shed my mortal flesh with great pain. Bystanders throughout will look upon me with disgust and hatred, but I will not fight back. Then, and only then, can I dare to judge others for how they go about their day to day activities. The darkness consumes me like a vile parasite. It is not welcoming or friendly or pleasurable. My vital organs have all but retired, and I writhe in agony over the earth. This is what I deserve to even consider me better than those who are pursuing journeys for themselves. I only hope that afterwards I am slightly recognizable to a select few, ones that despise my being with every fiber of their existence but cannot bear to look away. These thoughts plague my presence and haunt the cessation of my mind. I spiral but I cannot escape. I sink but I cannot breathe. I scorch but I cannot move. Is this what I'm destined to be? If this is what I've become, then is my journey complete? Am I punished in this way by mankind to forever gaze upon all who I've looked down on when the prediction of extinction was at my beck and call? Do not discourage self, I cry. My eternal anguish, here I stay, forfeiture lest I perish.
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Evaluating this piece, it begins with a character who wants the privilege to judge those who live similar lives as them without feeling guilty. They find it best to learn about doing so, and in the process, discover how to become immortal. They think they are able to finally judge the people as they see fit, but soon the character finds that with immortality comes hatred and disgust from the everyday people they once wanted to criticize. The character then finds themself longing for even a look in their direction. Following the desperation, the character experiences a sort of an existential crisis and begins to question everything. In the end, they find that it is better to give up their mortal coil in fear of a death longer than their life. This is what I thought when writing it but it can be interpreted in many different ways.
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Inspo pic:

Credits: genicecream (insta/tumblr)

Unfortunately for me, I have accumulated a deep and extremely one-sided love for my childhood best friend, and it is ever growing (like a snowball if you will). Since she will only ever think of me as a friend, I have found myself writing poetry of her any chance I could get. This one is my favorite and was written in an English class not too long ago. I call it "Flight for Two."

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