There are certain crossroads in life, where one stops and looks around. And sometimes, one dares to look back. The man in the mirror has changed... like thawing snow in the aftermath of winter, white patches of hair decorate this new landscape. The body ages, the soul grows older... energy fades. The old ones did not say without merit: "With one foot in the grave". Death doesn't seem as far away as it used to. One can feel the decay, the smell of dirt becomes more familiar... everything feels... final. But with age, there are certain things that improve as well. The relationship with eternal sleep improves, fear makes way to numbness. Come and take me, o death, free me from this mortal coil. I catch myself whispering in the depths of despair and hopelessness. Take from me this burden of failure, of disappointment; return me to the Void, forever forgotten; a calm deep free of thought, care... existence. Decent into nihilism becomes easier: "Let the world burn, wha...
Whenever he saw her, he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help his heart smile. Physically you probably wouldn’t notice anything. One could argue that quite the opposite was the case even. When people saw him, they saw darkness and hatred. Steely eyes, eyebrows tight and eyes resigned. He couldn’t help it though, the past shaped every man and woman in its own way. And his past was filled with people looking at him in disgust. For a long time, he didn’t understand. Why they’d look at him as though he was vermin. As if he was a ticking time bomb that might go off anytime. When he was younger, he’d greet the people on the street, he’d say “Hello” in a cheery voice and would smile at them. Few would greet him back and always with an air of confusion. And the older he became, the less people would greet him back, just look at him with eyes filled by hatred and disgust. After a while, he could sense it even. He thought that might be when it started. When his happiness and the hope for a better...