Purpose

Dear Unknown,

No matter how many a time I sweep up my burned, ashed heart, and reforge it in the inferno that is the willing passion that burns within me, it seems all for not. I beg and plead for the pain to stop, to only ask for momentary relief. My true scars that cause me the numbing short lived relief, cannot be seen on my skin but within this shell. As if my body continues to torture and thrash at my shattering soul, the scars once on my skin would not stay for very long. They would heal too fast for me to watch and heal along with it.

I wonder if this purposeless life that we barbaric beings live is ever worth the struggle to a imaginative happiness. We make up these fantasy worlds to escape the realities that we so much fear. For fear is what keeps us alive, it's what makes this world that we see now.

I bet times were much simpler when the whole world could make everything into the fantasies they saw. But whose to say... I am one of a trillion other creatures of this Earth, which on it's self is puny compared to it's brothern of the soundless Universe.

~As always, wish me luck in my journey to find the purpose in my life.

M...