The Journey

Writing

The persona I walk with has people looking at me with a raised brow. Dark thoughts strung out carefully across my mind. They are bathed within a bitter elixir called life. I am composed of bittersweet memories of my family, my childhood, and my present day moments. I am corrupted with my own pessimistic ways. Then again aren’t we all? People are obligated to lie to themselves as they rise from their slumbers. They set goals for themselves that they begin to give up on as if they were sand between their fingers drifting in between the cracks of their fingers and fall down.

The sensation of a dream falling away, it isn’t describable. Often time’s people feel empty or unaccomplished no matter how much they try to rethink or consider the things within their lives.

I don’t truly know the interworking of every human mind, but I know that everyone will begin to let go of any dream or desire when they realize that maybe it isn’t for them.

I do not know why the burdens I care upon myself are so immeasurable yet I still carry on. I am unmotivated yet I carry on. My dreams are out of my hands, and become a thing of make-believe.

The endless journey through life’s jungle of despair is ventured alone, for each man and woman’s is their own. At the end of the journey, maybe, hopefully maybe they will pick up the pieces of their dreams they had lost and put it back together.

I’m not scared to start my journey; I simply don’t know when to start it.

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