I don’t know which was worse to lay eyes upon; the twisted and crumbling buildings dressed in a facade of unimaginable degree of bland colors that seemed to pummel your mind with monotony so grand that sanity would crack within the slightest amount of time, or the vile sky with crimson spiraling abhorrence, undulating a sort of miasma toxic to those who breathe for life not knowing of death. All I could see was the disturbing collage given to us.  But I digress. I was journeying since the day I was conceived by the unlikelihood of two lovers, who under some rather unfortunate understandings, ended up disposing of the other’s emotions as a burden needing to be extinguished under the natural law of self preservation. Quite tragic, I know, but that’s the life of one who has been forsaken by the very constructs that placed himself in this rather hysterical world.
I must confess of a rather odd truth I have come to terms with, I am desolate and am alone regardless. The acceptance of this truth has made me feel more at ease within this caustic, corporeal body that has been tethered to my deteriorating mind.
On my journey, I have stumbled across many people; a plethora of beliefs all explaining how this meager existence had come to fruition. I have met liars, cheaters, gamblers, and prostitutes, greed-mongers, the pious, and thieves. But I could not see them, for my eyes are so numbed to the inequities of human beings. All living in order to not die, while accelerating their rather droll end. But I have felt emotions once, and it began to bloom as though it a young orchid yielding the first of its beautiful life span. The culprit to this rather unpleasant beauty was a woman of the age twenty-three, I believe. She was in total contrast, or as I could fathom. Her heart, I could see it; of blinding white, a light that could reflect the desires of others as though a mirror to show the faces of those victims who were foolish enough to gaze upon the fortitude. And what I saw was the blackened carapace, which housed an empty cavity into which I had no heart. That was the first time I, in fact, felt desolate. The feeling she imprinted on me was so sour and harsher than the torment my life placed upon me. She was my burden. And I loved her for it. She followed me on my journey, a constant reminder of how disgusting emotions can truly be. Every night and morning, I looked into her to find myself. The void within my body began to fill, gradually filling the cracks left by my toils. She was my salvation, she was the reason I lived. I finally had a love for someone.
My journey was almost to an end and I had gained what I never had. That was emotions which alleviated my life long ailment. I had filled the hole that tunneled its way through me as though a mole tunneling for shelter. I was one step from my final destination, at last I could feel the emotion of true “happiness”. I started to take that final step, and as I did I made a mistake on such horrifying levels of trepidation. I turned my head to gaze at her again, one last time before my imminent departure. She was nowhere to be seen. She had been lost along the journey and I had no recollection of ever losing my love.
I am desolate, I......Alone.