The Fate Of The Day
The Fate Of The Day
Funny. You look at me like I have something to lose by talking to you. Why do you think I'm out on the street at three in the morning with nothing abut a hundred pounds in my pocket and a change of clothes on my back? Yes, I know. Big gasp, total shock, nausea. I'm a street urchin. Well, I'm trying it out, anyway, and I've found that it isn't half bad compared to certain other living situations you could be in.
See, somewhere along the line, I figured I had nothing to protect. I was going to jump in the river, but that would be too cold. Jumping off a balcony didn't catch my interest, either, and I nearly had a go at slitting my wrists before I realized one crucial fact:
I didn't want to die.
Trouble was, I didn't want to live, either, at least not in my current situation. So, just five hours, eight minutes, and thirty-eight seconds ago, I packed my things and left. Then I puked in an alley by the street where (I hoped) no one could see me.
Then I met you.
No, I don't know where I'll end up. And, honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. I like it like this. I like the fog obscuring everything that could happen in the next five minutes. Besides, I'm quick on my feet. I know enough not to get myself killed.
And you know what? Mystery is better than stifling rules and routines that someone else forced down your throat.
It started, I believe, when I was twelve. I watched with my young eyes the night split the day in half, without anyone batting an eyelash. It horrified me, what I saw. all the innocence destroyed, all the lives cut short.
I think, deep down, I knew I had to leave right then and there. It wasn't even something I thought; it was something I knew. Being twelve years old and watching the world break into nothing. Thank God it never happened to you. Maybe someday it will, and that will be terrible, but at least you'll be older than twelve.
So, right now, I destroy. What point is there to do anything else? You have to watch out for you, after all. And if you don't, you'll be destroyed. Maybe I have to be a bit selfish, maybe I have to harm every once in a while, but I don't care. I get knocked off my feet, every now and again, and the world does not stop to help me up.
And, one day, I will die and the world won't stop to mourn.
See, somewhere along the line, I figured I had nothing to protect. I was going to jump in the river, but that would be too cold. Jumping off a balcony didn't catch my interest, either, and I nearly had a go at slitting my wrists before I realized one crucial fact:
I didn't want to die.
Trouble was, I didn't want to live, either, at least not in my current situation. So, just five hours, eight minutes, and thirty-eight seconds ago, I packed my things and left. Then I puked in an alley by the street where (I hoped) no one could see me.
Then I met you.
No, I don't know where I'll end up. And, honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. I like it like this. I like the fog obscuring everything that could happen in the next five minutes. Besides, I'm quick on my feet. I know enough not to get myself killed.
And you know what? Mystery is better than stifling rules and routines that someone else forced down your throat.
It started, I believe, when I was twelve. I watched with my young eyes the night split the day in half, without anyone batting an eyelash. It horrified me, what I saw. all the innocence destroyed, all the lives cut short.
I think, deep down, I knew I had to leave right then and there. It wasn't even something I thought; it was something I knew. Being twelve years old and watching the world break into nothing. Thank God it never happened to you. Maybe someday it will, and that will be terrible, but at least you'll be older than twelve.
So, right now, I destroy. What point is there to do anything else? You have to watch out for you, after all. And if you don't, you'll be destroyed. Maybe I have to be a bit selfish, maybe I have to harm every once in a while, but I don't care. I get knocked off my feet, every now and again, and the world does not stop to help me up.
And, one day, I will die and the world won't stop to mourn.