The realist’s ugly truth about birth, life and death.

Just some ramblings I dribbled out when stuck on a late night night assignment. A major work in progress but this is the gist of it.

Child of mine I look into your eyes and I see wonder. Wonder at absolutely everything. Everything is new. Everything is exciting. Everything elicits bewildering surprise. You grow and learn and are shaped by your surroundings. The worlds I have lived in are as alien as living on a distant star to some people I know. The more you grow the more your excitement builds as you fall into the illusion of wonderment your future will hold. As opportunities present themselves you reach out to grab them frantic with desire. The tendrils of success are fleeting and fast. You become desperate. You leap and bound and twist and grasp. A contorted puppet acting under a grotesque master. The world grows dark as your desperation turns to anger, fear and anguish. For the first time you know the cold touch of doubt. This insidious feelings create unreal aspects within your mind, bewildering and distorting your own  views of reality until in the end you are left spinning in a vortex of disillusionment desperately seeking to relive some aspect of your pathetic and self glorified past. Henceforth becoming a drone of society is inevitable as your own vortex slowly spins to a stop and you are left with the grinding and crushing reality that you will never achieve that something special, that something that stands out, that something that sets you apart from the rest, indeed you will come to count yourself lucky if you can achieve the higher echelon in the ranks of the drones. Responsibility and practicality replace determination and dreams. Panic becomes resignation and you settle slumped in defeat knowing that your life has now become pre-determined to grind to a halt weighed down by mediocrity and normalcy. You crawl along at this pace, stuck on an endless rat-wheel until the only unknown and exciting thing finally occurs in your life. You die. The rest cannot be written.

Author's Note

It needs bulking up, laying out etc. Not really sure what this will turn into so some ideas would be great.