Chatterbox: Inkwell

Some Random Philosophical Trash by Me

Remember the days when life was simple?

When every day was the same, but we prepared for the worst anyway?

Remember when problems were small and insignificant, like leaves blowing away in the wind?

Remember when problems were as small as a grain of sand in our universe?

When our universe itself was a city, or a state?

Remember those days again.

Think about the bad things.

The times our problems started out as a grain of sand,

But grew,

Grew into a stone,

Then a boulder,

Then a mountain,

And then tried to engulf our universe altogether.

Remember the bullies who scolded us for being different,

For being creative,

For being . . . Ourselves?

Remember when the stress threatened to shred our universe into pieces so small we could never had put it together again?

Remember when we longed for our lives to be more,

More interesting?

More . . . Complex?

I've written a million stories,

About my life, had it been more interesting.

I've told myself a million things,

Saying I had all the control I needed.

When in truth,

The world I imagined was so different,

So completely opposite

Of everything the real world had in store.

Now I know

The world I want,

With all its crazy plots and stories and happily-ever-afters,

Could only exist in my imagination.