I haven't given up on futility
The years have gone in a whisper. boys have grown to men. some boys remain lost in their worlds and this is the story of a misunderstood tootus. The name of the boy was not an important fact, the things he did was a proverbial mess. The things he didn't do, however, is the story that goes on.. Giving up has a lot of disguises. It can come in delusion, in admission, in subjection and that's about it. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. But what if life gives you apples and uses it to poke you in the eye or takes it away before you take a bite? Do you admit that the apple is beyond you? Do you accept that life is unfair? Do you want to believe the apple has a worm in it? Do you want to give up? It is very easy to give excuses for failure and it is almost natural to give up on anything under the sun. All you need is a mask and your on your way to completion. However, even as I know the apple is unreachable, I admire it for its beauty and I haven't given up on the day I can have it. In truth, the apple might have been eaten by someone godly, or thrown away and destroyed by a apple-hater, but you hope that life doesn't give up. Even in the meandering passing of time. Many laugh at the spineless waiting for a miracle as akin to waiting for death itself. Many have their hopes extinguished in the harsh realities of reckoning. I myself had many decisions to make when I was forced to be a man. I made all of them under influence, and many of them I feel failed even though others deem it a certainty or even success. From now on, Mr Me will follow my heart for once in my life as its the only source of pride I can muster that is truly mine and isn't that worthed dying for? Even so, apples are beautiful. They give a good crunch. I love them for their smooth exterior and a rock center. And I know not being good enough is going to be a self-sustaining problem. I am going to continue to wait. Progression is but a means to say you have moved on, and the proverbial thought of greater things in the future might just be a pipe dream that no one actually cares and just mumble for the sake of feeling important and relevant. I will be irrelevant, but I will not give up on the things I want. If the world wants to blame me, go ahead. The heart has already lost its fullness. It's shine has already been battered in rain and spites of aggression. No one else knows the loneliness of embracing futility. I haven't given up just yet.