I’m angry because I want meaning..
Why can’t I have it?
I know I could
But they told me I would fail
That I was a meager microscopic particle on a vast surface
Just like the others
They told me I was worthless
Something easily forgotten
Who are you?
They tell me I’m the person that will hopefully live until I’m about in my mid eighties… if I’m lucky
I’ll get an acceptable job. If I even make it that far
Have a family
A distraction really, in order to cloak my loneliness
Save up enough money to retire by the age of 65
Move away to somewhere warm
Because I don’t want to be missed when I’m gone
A lie really, to myself
Sure, my family might shed a few tears
But they move on
They have to continue on with the never-ending cycle
Ultimately, I’ll become nothing more than a lifeless corpse
Soon to become a part of the grounds in which others tread on living out the monotonous routines they have implemented into their petty lives
Because what else can we do?
So I, Me, myself
I’m no longer
Because you’re you.
Why are you angry?
….Why am I angry?
Because I’m nothing
I’m just me
I can never be anything more…
Originally appeared in the 2013-2014 edition of Outside In