…He came back to his house, laid in bed, and cried. The burden was unbearable. He had the ability, but never acted. He was a loser, and he knew it. So he cried. All the opportunities he was blessed with, he knew, and he cried. He knew what depression was, he knew it was a joke. That all he needed to do, was do. And he cried. In a hallucination fueled by emotion, he could envision conversations. Conversations of happiness, and of hope. Why couldn’t he utilize those things he knew? To Function! He knew it was sabotage, to lay there; crying. Sooner or later, he would get up to go to the bathroom, or to eat. “To eat!” He thought. That affirmation that life will continue. That living is to satiate need; to survive. But, what did he know about survival? Nothing. so he cried. “How can I outrun my poor decisions!” He erupted in a stentorian plea; rolling and writhing, tumbling about on his mattress. He wanted to escape. Escape a fate that he felt was coming, but didn’t feel he deserved. He knew his purpose. He knew that he was not as he appeared. But judgment is blind. And facts are relative to those that make them. He was sure he was guilty. He was sure he didn’t stand a chance. So he cried…
MindWorld 