Momentary, Transitory

Watching the flow of the world from the safety of my cage; that's what my purpose seems to be. I stare blankly out into the world and watch it turn... Sure, I have my hand in the actions of a few of the players- but truth be told, all that anyone ever does is respond to my expressions and my reactions. I'm the audience, through and through. I may even have an actor's heart- but the game never ends and he's certainly too dedicated to it to give it all up and sit with me on the sidelines. Everyone always is.

I try with all of my might to avoid self-pity. I don't complain nearly as often as I could, and even when I do I refuse to accept pity, refuse to accept sorrow.
... But life sucks. And I'm tired of hearing other peoples' complaints when they say that life is too much, when they have gripes about friends or family or circumstances, because I would give my world to experience their lives for a single day. I've sat here in a state of useless for two years now; you're out in the world, making differences and influencing actions.
You know what it's like to feel someone else touching you, to hear someone that you care about in person, to have the God damned sunlight on your face. What do I know? I know shadows; I know sorrow; I know nothing.
You have a reason to live, no matter how negligible you think that it is. You have someone to care about you, no matter who the hell you are. What do I have? I have shadows; I have sorrow; I have nothing.



"The innermost feelings I have: this life isn't doing it for me anymore. Just how tired can a person feel, anyway? June in Massachusetts... but I'm still the winter-frost on the windows I approach. I breathe into the glass and write, "No one was here." It is the most true statement that I will ever write. No one was here. No one has been here. No one will ever be here. Who are we anyway? We are... no one. I am your god, No One. Praise me, No One. My words read like the Bible that No One reads...

"What a poor excuse of social commentary!" the people say. No One shakes his head at me. No One shakes his head at No One. "What a silly boy!" No One says.

Pick a Title for your life. You will repeat many exchanges, hellos and goodbyes - but which trite line will be the chosen No One? Are you a Hello or a Goodbye?

No One is a Goodbye. (That would be me.)"
-Rachael Spatafore