A head resting on weary, bony shoulders. A head full of dreams – inexplicable, unreasonable dreams that corrupted his thoughts. Yet he clinged on to them with every inch of his undeniably bleak existence,
– for those dreams were all he had.
He wasn’t deprived of love. He wasn’t broke. Not at the moment at least. His parents had his back for as long as he could remember. He did, however, spend countless hours sprawled on top of his blanket, staring at a stained ceiling that nothing would stick to. He spent a whole afternoon trying to stick luminescent stars to a surface he was tired of looking at. Of course, they weren’t there for very long. But then, nothing ever stays where it’s meant to be.
He hated the way he looked. He hated that the only intrinsic motivation he had was to make himself think that he’s not suffering, whereas in reality, he took absolutely no steps to fix the broken person he was. Which is interesting because he was never this….pessimistic. On the contrary, he was a believer once. Some might have even referred to him as someone who was overconfident, extremely optimistic and above-average cheerful. What happened?
He has pondered, but the answer never presented itself. And now, he feels lost. Weird things happen to you when you’re his age. You doubt every decision you make in the wake of setting your life priorities straight. You never feel like you have a purpose, and an abundance of media forces you to believe that if you’re feeling something that you’re not supposed to feel, you’re not supposed to feel it. You chide yourself, again and again, for you believe that you, and you alone are responsible for this state you’re in. You become blind to the external and internal undesired traits that force you to act the way you do. And consequently, you hate yourself more and more until you start believing that you are the problem.
You’re the variable in this unsolvable equation that makes no sense at all.”