Optimistic Thoughts
It was always a painful affair to deal with different devils. There is always a
comparison for each hell, to him, it is just silence. All he knows is that he is
tired. All he knows is that life does not mean anything. Of course, that does
not mean he will just give up. It wasn't like that.
He always found himself trapped where incessant noise rings within his ears.
The world, his entirety, was faded into monochromatic images.
Malcontented, disgruntled.
Somehow, the feeling burning in his chest comes in between the words angry and sad.
Describing what he felt was ambiguous, more so when he knew his existence was fading away in due
time.
Not because of he was dying, instead, his entirety is slipping away in the
abyss.
Repetitive, unoriginal, he muses under his breath, watching how ivory
flowers lay lazily on his desk, words of death and stupid insults written down
angrily.
He had grown tired of this routine to be honest, but, one way or
another, he had gotten used to it.
He was not worried however, it was not as if he was going to commit suicide, that is stupid.
How could you kill someone who is already dead?
He has gotten to the point where he does not care. The noises will not give up and monochrome stained walls remains to be the same.
He is just tired of everything.
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