"I am dying. I can fell it in the air. I can feel it in my bones, I can feel it my hair. I was a child just a few days back and look how time flies. I had dreams for myself, not one but many and I outgrew each. As days passed so did my heartbeats and with each a new dream. I could have been this or that. I wanted to be this or that. I was okay with being mediocre too but even less, I had not estimated. It is not that I am dead but I can feel myself melting away as if the self I carried has disappeared with time. Layers have been worn off and slowly everything will unravel into nothingness. What is the point of beauty or worth, if it is not appreciated. Any greatness not recognized is self-delusion. And I am not delusional.
I am dying and the people around me, don't know this. They expect me to participate in their daily charades. Let's chat they say and let's dance. But they don't talk, they gossip, whisper nothings. They don't dance, they repeat steps they remember, steps that others will appreciate. I know I am not great. It was I think the first thing I recognized about myself. That and the fact that I used a lot of 'I' in my work. But I write what I write even if I write a lot Is. Days pass, even years and what will they remember of these days and years. The great nothing. No consequence like billion others before them, they will slide of the face of earth. Do you realize we have one lifetime to live and that's it. Voila like a cheap magic trick we will disappear from the face of this earth never to return. Finish! Vamoosh! and nothing. Do not think much and life makes sense. For a moment stop and think and this vast castle of cards falls apart leaving nothing. I am dying. We all are."
Look what I found in her bag.
Let me see that... Wow.Too much angst. I think you should talk to your daughter, maybe she needs help. Is she okay? Is she sick?
Yes, yes she is fine. I promise. But, but do you, with all your writing awards, think it's good? Would you give her any tips to improve her work?
Not bad actually, if she didn't mean it. I think she should expand on it. Explore her inner sensibilities a bit further. There are hints of excellence which if worked upon could make this printable. But this does not look like a work of 17 year old girl. Are you positive it is your daughters work?
Yes, yes, of course, who else would write it. Not me.
You girl's quite grown up then. Tell her she will be alright, she could always be great writer.
You really think so sister?
I am dying and the people around me, don't know this. They expect me to participate in their daily charades. Let's chat they say and let's dance. But they don't talk, they gossip, whisper nothings. They don't dance, they repeat steps they remember, steps that others will appreciate. I know I am not great. It was I think the first thing I recognized about myself. That and the fact that I used a lot of 'I' in my work. But I write what I write even if I write a lot Is. Days pass, even years and what will they remember of these days and years. The great nothing. No consequence like billion others before them, they will slide of the face of earth. Do you realize we have one lifetime to live and that's it. Voila like a cheap magic trick we will disappear from the face of this earth never to return. Finish! Vamoosh! and nothing. Do not think much and life makes sense. For a moment stop and think and this vast castle of cards falls apart leaving nothing. I am dying. We all are."
Look what I found in her bag.
Let me see that... Wow.Too much angst. I think you should talk to your daughter, maybe she needs help. Is she okay? Is she sick?
Yes, yes she is fine. I promise. But, but do you, with all your writing awards, think it's good? Would you give her any tips to improve her work?
Not bad actually, if she didn't mean it. I think she should expand on it. Explore her inner sensibilities a bit further. There are hints of excellence which if worked upon could make this printable. But this does not look like a work of 17 year old girl. Are you positive it is your daughters work?
Yes, yes, of course, who else would write it. Not me.
You girl's quite grown up then. Tell her she will be alright, she could always be great writer.
You really think so sister?
