A World of No Escape

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story I've written that talks about the point of views of people who have seen the side of a liar. It's also been posted on DeviantArt! ShadowBizu is the same name!

Submitted: August 02, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 02, 2012




It seems so peaceful sometimes. So peaceful in fact that I often forget why I sit on the solid pavement in the middle of the night. It's times like this where I find myself asking deaf ears, "Why does it have to come to this?", and the answer is always the same: complete and utter silence. But why does it always have to be silence? Why, for just one day, or even a fraction of a second, can it not come with an answer? Why is it that after so many years, people still provide nothing but negligence to the fallen?

It takes years to build perfection, but only seconds to destroy it. Over the years, I've come to learn that what is destroyed can never be repaired, and that the catalyst which accelerates this causation comes from nature itself. It's because we cannot forgive imperfection -- we cannot condone to imperfection -- that we fail to neglect that most choices are born from imperfection. We fear this imperfection; we despise this imperfection. Because of this, good nature is often pushed away, replaced by a tyrant named Hatred. And yet we've all grown together with Hatred as the closest of friends would know each other before their very births. If we know the evil that comes with Hatred, then why do we rely on Hatred so much?

I, to this day, refuse to give in to Hatred's nature, and yet I know most of the people whom I have come to love have been fooled by temptation. In turn, I have become another victim. The problem is always the same: Hatred is too powerful. Hatred rules with an iron fist; an inescapable control. As hard as I try to fight back, I would call myself a liar if I said I had never met Hatred as my ally. And here I sit on the solid pavement in the middle of the night, unable to have a friend in sight come and help me, for I am lost of voice. Though in the middle of the street, I have blended within the shadows, as people around me pass on by. The memory of this fate shall forever haunt me today and beyond my dying breath, as it reminds me constantly that there is no escape from a weakened, imperfect world.

Everyone I have had in life has always said the same things. They all say "I will look out for you" or "I will never lie to you" and even "I promise I will treat you with the respect you deserve", and like a fool, I believe every word. What has always been interesting to me however was that the longer you grow accustomed to someone's presence, the more acquainted you become with their qualities. In the end I have found myself questioning the very essence of the person I have once met many years ago who has seemingly been replaced by this absurd monstrosity. Rather than the kindred spirit I had come to know and love, I am continuously met by a beast that spurts everything I had never expected their predecessor to speak. "That guy is so annoying" and "That girl is such a crybaby" become more common than I had anticipated; this was never the life I wanted to live. And yet I stay out of fear of losing the past I to this day hold so dear. And that's what life comes to at times: it can be a life where there are no choices of the friends you make or the family you grow up with; a life of no escape.

These judgemental monstrosities are the children of Hatred. Many times I had been confronted by the offspring, and many times I have been kissed by their curse, and yet I find myself running from them; hiding from them. Maybe it's because I have never wanted anything to do with Hatred. Everyone else can fall into their trap, though I continue to fight back. And yet I find myself grow more weary with each passing day. I'm tired of running; tired of fighting. And it's when this happens that Hatred makes me into vulnerable prey. Hatred feeds on fear and anxiety, qualities of both good and bad. The smallest opening will leave anyone wide open.

Often I had heard people say behind my back, "That guy is such a loser" or "He is extremely annoying" and even "Why can't he ever say anything for himself?"; I am engulfed by these poisonous spurts constantly and yet the people around me never seem to care. Nobody cares; nobody ever cares. Is this what life has become? Is it only a world where Hatred is king, and compassion has died? I refuse to believe it, though I know it has always been a fact. There is no compassion in this world. There is no love in this world. This world -- this imperfect world -- has no escape.

And so tonight I sit on the pavement because I am tired of running from Hatred. Sometimes when I wait, it begins to rain. And only when rain drops fall from the sky can I hide what Hatred has persistently tried to pry from my very soul. I'm tired of building something for years, only to have it destroyed. I'm tired of hearing the same lies and witnessing the bitter reality from everyone around me. And so I sit on the pavement because no one cares whether or not I sit. No one cares what I do as long as I do it alone. This moment -- this single moment of this drenched evening is the only time where I can find myself alone, away from the lies, and away from Hatred, in this world of no escape.


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