Villainy

Makes more sense to read the first one first. Not much of a story but more a story than anything else in the list.

Late at night I sit alone in the same spot I sit in during the day. My imprint in my bed is my home. I lie here feeling the most comfortable I can feel and yet I am so uncomfortable. Thoughts flood my mind and putting them to word is the only way to release them. I write not to make sense, not to have word after word flow like a beautiful river, but to release an ugly, black mess inside my head. A few days ago I came to a personal realization that the only absolutes are life, fear and death. I brought this up to my friend, and he asked about hope. Hope is an absolute for some. Hope and faith, two words with the same definition in a grand scheme of things, are a luxury people like me can never have. Hope is what separates a hero from a villain. When you realize the world is gray, you make the choice to bring color to it or to accept the reality. A villain accepts the reality. A villain realizes that he will feel an abundance of pain throughout his life. I am a villain. My life is painful. It should not be. I should be happy. I have friends, money, intelligence. I’m in love with somebody I can never have. Granted, if I had her, it would never last. I am well aware of that. Any moment with her is better than none. I wish I could get rid of her. She stays in my mind like a coffee stain on a white shirt. I hate the very thought of her and yet she is the most beautiful creature I will ever meet. She gives me the urge to smoke. I know what it does, smoking, it increases your chance for cancer, yellows your teeth, gives you a buzz. The buzz. The sweet buzz is not for me what it is for others. I don’t feel tingly, or any good feeling. It takes away the bad. I feel normal after I smoke. I don’t feel the black hole in my chest, the hole that eats away at me and leaves a shell of a human. I feel awake when I would want to sleep. I feel comfortable when I would be uncomfortable. I feel. I can notice colors in a world I know is gray. The smoking revives the hope in me and makes me a hero to myself for simply a moment in time, but that’s better than being a villain for eternity. We talk about eternity a lot. The word forever is thrown around and is meant to mean for all of time. Forever only truly lasts a lifetime. After you die, forever is over. You’re dead forever, but how can you be something when you no longer exist. When you no longer exist, nothing exists with you. Everything meant to last forever stops lasting because you stop lasting. There are only three absolutes.

Author's Note

Ignore grammar, structure, and flow. I only want your opinions about my feelings. Like the last writing, if someone could give me the genre this would be thank you.