You know, from the outside, things look alright: I have a warm bed, I have enough food, I'm not homeless or in prison. I live clean, I have a college degree. People tell me that I'm talented and good-looking. But on the inside I know that I'm a failure, because somewhere along the line I fell off this conveyor belt and was never able to get back on again.
I used to bright, you know, but there's so much dust in this place that I can't distinguish myself from the landscape. It's so flat and wide and desolate. The sun beats down; I have no protection.
I missed every milestone.
My peers went zooming past me long ago to that place they call a Fulfilling Life. You can see it shining over there on the horizon, that fabled place, that place we're promised if we behave in school and interview well.
The desert is full of mirages.
I stopped being thirsty a long time ago. The dust sort of settles in everywhere - into your mouth, your nose, your eyes - until you become dust yourself. My throat filled up, I expected to yearn for breath, but that never came. I accepted this.
When your body gets sick, people send you flowers.
When your mind is sick, it's like no one wants to look at you at all.
:mittens:
But it gets even better. The people who ran off to fulfill life? They're still in the desert.
Ooooh Nast, this is *good*.
Thanks guys. I'm not a very prolific writer and I don't get ideas very often, but the urge to write this one came to me after a walk last night. So I just sort of threw it up here on the internet.
Quote from: The Good Reverend Roger on September 24, 2015, 04:59:48 PM
:mittens:
But it gets even better. The people who ran off to fulfill life? They're still in the desert.
Yep.
That was haunting, beautiful, and true Nast.
:mittens: