
brokenspirited
Great Mage
- May 20, 2025
- 420
I never asked to be born. I never consented to existence, yet here I am, thrown into a world where suffering is the default and silence is the only true relief. They speak of life as a "gift," as if being dragged into this decaying reality is some kind of blessing. But to me, it has always felt like a punishment.
Every morning is another unwanted reminder that I'm still here. Still breathing. Still shackled to a body I didn't choose, in a world I never wanted. They try to convince us that things will get better and that meaning can be found in pain, but that's just their way of coping with a truth that is too bleak to face. The truth is that life simply is, with no intrinsic purpose, no justice, and no guarantee of peace.
Some people find comfort in distractions, such as relationships, careers and fleeting pleasures. But not everyone is capable of forgetting. Some of us see the world for what it really is: a decaying machine built on indifference where joy is fleeting and pain is ever-present. I do not envy those who find meaning here; I simply cannot relate. Their world is not mine.
I am not angry. I am not even sad anymore. Just tired. Tired of pretending there is something worth salvaging in this relentless stream of days. I'm tired of hearing that I must endure. I'm tired of hearing that I must hope. I'm tired of hearing that I must try harder. It's all for a life I never asked to live.
True peace is the absence of this constant noise. It's freedom from wanting, fearing and being. Though I am still here, I carry that silence with me in my thoughts: a distant shore that I will never reach, but which I will always see.
Some of us were simply not meant for this world.
Every morning is another unwanted reminder that I'm still here. Still breathing. Still shackled to a body I didn't choose, in a world I never wanted. They try to convince us that things will get better and that meaning can be found in pain, but that's just their way of coping with a truth that is too bleak to face. The truth is that life simply is, with no intrinsic purpose, no justice, and no guarantee of peace.
Some people find comfort in distractions, such as relationships, careers and fleeting pleasures. But not everyone is capable of forgetting. Some of us see the world for what it really is: a decaying machine built on indifference where joy is fleeting and pain is ever-present. I do not envy those who find meaning here; I simply cannot relate. Their world is not mine.
I am not angry. I am not even sad anymore. Just tired. Tired of pretending there is something worth salvaging in this relentless stream of days. I'm tired of hearing that I must endure. I'm tired of hearing that I must hope. I'm tired of hearing that I must try harder. It's all for a life I never asked to live.
True peace is the absence of this constant noise. It's freedom from wanting, fearing and being. Though I am still here, I carry that silence with me in my thoughts: a distant shore that I will never reach, but which I will always see.
Some of us were simply not meant for this world.