End of the end - A vague confession

The end must end.

Whosoever said that stories have an ending? I have personally experienced something quite the opposite – I’ve witnessed that it is usually the endings that have a story. Most do not even exist until they’re ended. So what would happen if I were to walk back to the middle of the tunnel, knowing where and how it would end? What if I took a path earlier inexistent, and let my aggression punch a universe through the walls that aren’t up yet? What if the world were to see the invisible, the truth, the complete truth?

Okay, then. We’ll begin on the story next time. For starters, I’ll tell you something, something no one else knows. Can you keep a secret? Or am I gonna have to kill you?

I did something, extremely right (well given the damn state of affairs) and equally hard. Hardships do not end, ever! But I would never ask for an easier life. Well, that said, I did something.  I killed a bird, I burnt a bridge, I tore apart a torn apart world. What for? Why did I do that? I had my reasons. A reason I’d very much like to kill, or probably die trying to change.

The question is not what I did. It is the pride of doing the right thing at the wrong time that can make up for not doing the right thing at the right time. But is that all there is to life? Making mistakes, and making amendments? Can we not for once, just for once, forget that we’re humans? Or better still, can we not for once, realize that maybe yes, maybe this is all we’ll ever have. Maybe it’s true, this is what your standard of living has come down to. And then go back to the idea, that we’re mere humans, trying too hard to live, only to die.

What do I want, they ask me. Pathetic! Retarded homosapiens! Can you not for once, see that I do not know what I want, and for all that matters, I do not care that I don’t know. It is far beyond my comprehension, or mere apprehension for that matter, that why won’t they just gp to hell! Just let me be! Everyone! Go! GO! If only knew here hell was, I’d walk with every single human on this humanistic planet until the end of it, just to leave them there.

I know the way out. I know how to reach where you are. I just don’t want to! I’ve fallen in love with the sweet smelling despair. It has always been all or none. It has never been, and will never be of human calibre to give all. Take it then. Of what purpose is a life without purpose. ParadoX!

I seem to incapable of effort now. But of what purpose would be a life, if it were to require effort not just at every step, but even at the thought of every step? Isn’t a sweet death superior to a venomous life?  Who’s to decide? Stop troubling me, I can’t.

So the secret! I can’t tell you. Can’t even think about telling you. All I know is that the end has ended. The story is made. It’s complete. It’s beautiful, heartbreakingly beautiful!

And like I’ve said before, every end must rise in itself to be a new beginning. So what next, I ask. Where do we go from here, from nowhere that we are? Why don’t you start by telling me a story?