I’ve thought it was my art. It holds my head in the sky, makes my heart flutter. But I’ve been told, and told again that it is a burden. That it holds me back from my focus. Not pure. I’ve thought it was my work. The taste of success is always sweet at first. Without the recognition of others, though, it becomes meaningless. After working hard for the first time in my life, I soared on the fruit of my labors. Only to find there was no more ground below me. The moment I stopped putting in that effort, the moment I stopped beating my wings…. I would fall to my death. Not pure. So now, here I desperately flutter… cradling my wound in my arm, betrayed, rejected, alone. If I fall, I die. If I bleed, I die. But the exhaustion slowly takes me. The dizziness spins me more aggressively with each drop of crimson. All the encouragement left is the fuzzy memories of joy and those words… My future is bright. And if I bleed enough, I will one day be able to hold it in my hand.

I can feel my head reeling and splitting. My seconds are running out. I do the only 3 things I’m able to do: I survive. I hope. And I think. What will the future offer if I make it through this? It is said that it’s bright, yes. But what if it blinds me? What if it burns me? Will I hold on, my vision black and my hands scorching, based on the notion of desirability that was pushed onto me? Simple logic says this struggle for a life, for a future… is not just futile, but pointless. Even as we grasp that future, we suffer. And what was it for? That light’s beauty in the one moment before it took your sight forever? No… a future worth living for is one with happiness. Not more pain. Jubilance and agony are quite different things. And yet we built a society based on constant suffering. Giving up is considered an act of cowardice, but those who say this kill themselves slowly. They choke on the pain, secretly praying for release. Indirect hypocrisy. Both sides know the pain and the pointlessness.

This is what leads me to believe that there’s 2 actually ideal futures: One where I stop trying to hold my fractured body together, And one where we stop torturing ourselves for an even worse existence. What would… happiness… feel like-?