Death is my destiny. You cannot reverse it.
Lethargy clots my mind as blue glass scatters in shards next door. Is my haven really a few yards away?
Like a bird, I catch stray breezes and ascend to the universe, ignorant to the land below. Stars dangle and sway dizzily above me. I pluck one from the sky and toss it below, watching a streak of lightning flare submerged beneath felted clouds. A wish will be crafted and broken.
The sun illuminates itself, feinting bulbs of fire that unfurl to smoking blossoms. Distracted, asteroids fall to the soundless orb, perhaps their last memory a birth of new life.
I feel as if I've crossed into a alternative dimension, like the worlds the geeks in my class often discuss with palpable intensity. Perhaps this is an illusion after all.
But death is my destiny. Nothing will change my ultimate goal.
How will I die? It seems so often like a sylph slipping out of its chrysalis, a shell abandoned to be replaced by one of infinite value. Likewise, it may be an ornery firefly, flamboyant but unpredictable. Unless you seal it in a jar...
A faint glint of a translucent wine bottle glimmers ominously in the distance.
Ribbons of mist lace throughout my limp hair as a shimmering figure emerges from the shadows. I wince as trinkets of glass pound toward the floor.
A whirlwind of nostalgia then pricks the constant dissonance I find in my life. Everything suddenly appears disheveled and groggy, as if a massive outbreak of opium sleep had been succumbed into the world. My mother and father's lucid faces materialize in thin air, their expressions reflecting a banquet at a funeral. Like an oxymoron.
Skidding across limpid nothingness, I attempt to pierce Earth's atmosphere, though an unnatural force repels me back to my original destination.
Death.
Desperation radiates from my soul as another sickening crunch breaks the stillness. Blood-red rain glistens as it twirls down toward the threshold of my body, the one girl bathed in limelight. As my own tears ripple away, crimson stains my skin in an illegible calligraphy. Do they pity me?
I am lost in a forever daydream.
And death is my only destiny.ஐ
A birthday is heaven's gratitude to a year of success and achievement...or not. Can you say that some have never tasted the richness of life - their golden wish of passing wasted with despair?
We say "success" is wealth and luxury; the greatest highlight in our timeline the day we finally could afford to splurge on a car. Our cup of happiness is filled each day, then finally diluted into other objects, inanimate, or not. I often ask my friends, "What makes you happy?" Their replies are slightly cliche in a way, always the usual "friends, family, lace, bubble baths, e.t.c." But if such charms someday disappeared, would your happiness disintegrate with it? Would the ripples of fire ever reverberate to you ever again?
Birthdays were once the few days in a year when we actually made time to muse and ponder about what life meant to us - the sheer joy we saw through it. We used to allow the pendulum to unobtrusively slip away because it did not matter. What would matter if you were happy with yourself, after all?
Now, celebrations are held on that cherished date every 365 days, the homage we should be paying muted in the background. The cheerful attitudes presented to the guests are nothing more than a false array of smiling faces, like mist that deceives the horizon. Yet, we are actually giving our energy toward a much undesirable goal - greed. Extravagant food and newfangled gifts...all to the feet of Want and Ignorance.
When we say that we are "better-off" than someone else, is the truth really lying? The simple are content with a wind-smoothed pebble, the complex need a flawless diamond. But while the two objects are a world away in value, they both, in short, are rocks.
So, have some people never experienced happiness? Maybe, but perhaps it is because they have never found it inside their hearts. May the future dawn brighter and the past guide the way, but let the present unfold its meaning. Forever and always. ஐ
