My first short story.


Can I ask you a question?

How many times have you killed yourself?

Me, “I feel sorry for my graveyard shift”. He or she must think, why does this person continue to plant seeds, only for them to wither away. Truth be told, I myself cannot even answer that question. Failures after failures. What comes next? Ambition, passion, desire, these words are not familiar with me. In fact, my whole life was in pursuit of something, something that I have no direction or path to make way of. “Life gets hard”. Want to bet on whose heard that the most. You wouldn’t mind losing a few pounds. I’ll help you get that weight off your chest. I’ve got too many questions, with no answers. What do we feed ourselves with? Money, insanity to please the sane around us. Demonstrate the weak who are confined to the rich man’s feet. Or, the manifestation of our inner thoughts kneeling to a doctrine.

I don’t really know what path I’m walking on. It’s sure to be full of surprises. Pain, suffering, something I was born with. Regardless, I still want to carry on walking.