"It's frustrating, ya know? I see all these people and I wonder how they all did it."
It truly does feel like I'll never get there. I'll be 19, laying on the floor in my mom's house forever. Permanently broke, jobless, hopeless. A quitter, a drop out, a child. Though my body grows older, I'm not ready. Time went too fast.
Imagine the time you were hunting crickets at your step-sister's house, and when you cried because her daughter kicked you out of her club after you'd just bought them flowers. Go back to the time you were robbed of, when you were too young to speak. You didn't know the words you needed yet, so you cried and it made everyone angry. They still get mad to this day. You were never allowed to disagree.
You were made up, imagined, like all of their stupid rules. You were made to be broken.
A mirror shatters and the noise is just enough to start a motion in you. You're running somewhere, anywhere away from here. Through your periphery pass images of everything you used to be. A uniform, a number, a student, an infant. You're going back in time. The past is the only thing that's real. The future may not exist. Within seconds your hourglass can run out and you'll never see it coming.
Suicide was never the answer. It was a power-play with God. If it is his design, what greater sin than to destroy it? Those who opt out early aren't punished for selfishness, but for challenging God himself. The ultimate act of anarchy in existence is against a being that may not exist.
We value the thought of someone over what we know is real. What we can actually see. We are blind and unworthy of such a beautiful Earth.
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