Blunt Gloom

The Dejected Quill - by ezuhaib

Blunt Gloom. Distress. Failures. Life cannot get worse.

Life will end anyway, so why do we crave for harmony? Why do we wish to built a perfect sandcastle at the beach when we know a devastating tsunami will be arriving just a few minutes from now? Maybe because it’s the only chance we have and we wish this one-time transit to be good. Good for what? Reason cannot answer.

Suicide appears at times to be rationally correct, as the perfect revenge against irrational survival instincts mother nature dripped into our heads.

Except when I think of someone I love, someone who loves me. Her existence forces me to revert to the survival instincts and accept the bodily prison my soul is made to live in.

I have to live.

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