my dream is responsible for my misery! I don’t want to dream anymore and free myself from the psyche of imagination
Alack, the world is so big that I felt forlorn, horribly speaking, I am a criterion for failures, ah! I am seen as a bad augury. The world is against me, I have to look up to the sky and create my world.
“A man that doesn’t find what he can die for isn’t fit to live”, I found one, I had a dream but I am currently torn, the dream I craved for became a delusion and turn against my intelligence. One of the greatest fiaschi is when a man dies with his possibility! What a debris talent, I am a walking dead as they called me.
It seems unthinkable to succeed differently in a society that widely believes and has a common goal, custom, and culture. I gave up incessantly but I am buried with my past, failure, and dream, one’s good intention begins to deteriorate and devaluate if things go awry most importantly if the puzzle remains encipher. the world encompasses only a few good people but masses of sinister, the trusted folk that used to be my cheerleaders became the first and prime people who disheartened me, the believe evanesce, my prominence got tarnished, they against me, everything reversed abruptly and I became the only soul in the forest of darkness.
If only God could comprehend how comprehensive we are towards people’s viewpoint if only the supreme being would discern people’s sacrifice and exertion that has been put in place and behold for our success and greatness, maybe he might give us a breakthrough. Invariably, once a man flunks to dwell the worthwhile life he craves for, he begins to possess unsought, flurry, veered life which may path him cataclysmically. I seldom indict myself for my failure due to negligence, but I strongly believe some other factors are the catalyst that driven my flaws but it is wrong to pinpoint someone or something as the justifications for one’s misery. God! the greatest writer and potter who mold fate and prophecy, what such disaster you have befallen me, I am a living dead.
I have perpetually sired in the belief of pen to be the strongest weapon to change the world, but my pen broke. I have been entrusted to rewrite the destiny, I have been chosen to change the will, I have been given enough which enough is expected but I am a failure. Contemplating on my dream invokes my mental instability, vying and struggling towards my dreams have left entrenched scars on my body, my heart got punctured and fracture, my blood boils, voyaging on the realm of greatness has added salt to my wounded heart, every moment of fighting for the life I want to be ended in unbearable catastrophe, I sometimes hated my creation, I don’t want to dream anymore.
A man should firmly pitch up perfectly even when no one lingers beside him, the chance of making it in life lies in the power of decision making. People think the availability of success lies in their goals, ideas, skills, and profession which is deluded our success lies in the power of decision, the decision we make today determine who we will become tomorrow. I am not what I think I am, I am what you think I am. Alas, we can not relieve ourselves from pain until we share from other’s pain, it is petrified rarely understand what we have withstood or the bitterness going inside us while they judge us stereotypically.
We have been carried away with external factors and other people’s impressions over us, which made us remain inertia while we migrate from the track. This world isn’t for me, I have to find myself a suitable world and remain a dreamer. Should I continue dreaming or I should let go of my dreams?
Young Altruist writes