I write a lot besides fanfiction. I just felt the need to post this quick thing.

life

Life is not short. It’s the longest thing you’ll experience. But I’m not going to say what others typically say.

Sometimes, we can’t do what makes us happy. We can’t take the chances. We can’t fight for what we want. We can’t live our own lives. We can’t be who we want to be.

They tell us to look into our hearts, see what’s there. There isn’t anything. Our hearts are but a hollow diamond, beautiful and strong on the outside, but nothing on the inside.

We are not numb to emotions. We feel happiness, we feel pain, we feel anger, we feel sadness. It just so happens that our world is slightly more blue most of the time.

No, we won’t kill ourselves. We are not strong, not at all, but we aren’t completely weak in this world. We are only weak to ourselves, pushing knives and arrows into our own hearts and souls. It is not that we enjoy the pain of it. It is that we live for the truth.

We are not invisible. We have friends. People know us. We know them. The thing is, we hold many secrets inside, ones which no one has ever seen a shimmer of. Our hearts maybe empty, but they are not transparent.

We are the ones who aren’t depressed enough to be diagnosed, yet aren’t happy enough to be human. We are somewhere in the middle, the anomalies, the outliers. We have no one to look into our empty hearts and understand. Even for each other, the shapes of our hearts are so abstract and distinct that we cannot help one another. We are just another person to pass by you on the street, seemingly human on the outside, but swimming alone in a vast ocean of nothingness.

Maybe that’s something to hold onto. That we’re special. That we’re something no one else has been, is, or will be. That no one will ever swim the same ocean, despite how grand it may be.

I am one of you. I may not understand what you have gone through, but I can understand the emptiness of your chests. A butterfly’s wings will flutter from the centre of our hearts, and it will be heard right to the edges of our existence.

So, as one of you, all I can say is this.

Maybe life will get better. Maybe it won’t. Maybe it won’t even change. Maybe you’ll be dead. Maybe you’ll be alive. Maybe you’ll be happier. Maybe you’ll be sadder. Maybe you’ve never moved. Maybe you’ll live on the other side of the world.

But these are just maybes. Chase the now, the is, the happening, and put a large mark of YOU on it.

Maybe you won’t be, but then at least you were.