Life like it never was

It's a prose written in a poetic style. It just my look on life and inner thoughts.

Why can't life dwindle into a line that keeps narrowing to vanishing as I rest my eyes awaiting sleep. Why instead does it enlarge like an inflated balloon about to never burst, but always frighten to such happening doomed to be soon. 

I've lost purpose. Nothing seems to be under control anymore. Everything is fast and sudden and beyond all impossibly purposeless from anything I intend, want or need, it's a reality for someone else that's not me. 

There is no more the mere illusion I created, not even the possibility of freedom like I deem worthy to seek living under. There is just this misery -of the only normal simple thing that is not gold or money- being stolen from me. 

All my reasons are violated. I no longer wish to survive in this world. 

I've never felt more liberated but maybe also impossibly sad than when I abandoned every passion and love for anything worldly. It's the state where you see the huge "It's going to be nothing" manifested everywhere. I hope tomorrow will be a better day, but I don't expect it to be. 

Reviews

[Decidious wind]

Bery descreptive and thorough choice of vocabulary. This is your only piece on writers cafe however i encourage you to post more because i look forward to your writing

[Lubnh]

thanks I will God willing. :)