Disregard

I felt like watching the whole world burn. Like I didn’t belong and then it was only me. Me against the world, because no matter how hard I tried, how hard they tried, it’d always be just as it is: a loner wondering through everything that makes earth, every corrupt floor, every pure leaf fallen from a tree. A loner trying to make them feel what she feels, what she says, why she acts like this and like that, why she keeps hiding, lying, pushing people away. Until she’s tired… and then everything’s shut down. No matter how I wanted, I could never let anyone take that feeling away from me. No one I have met could and I was beginning to believe I wouldn’t ever meet someone that was able go past the façade. That would eventually walk in into those tortuous, twisted path that lead to the core of something no one had reached so far, something that even I was scared of. Something that was pretty much fucked up, and confused, and complicated. My spirit, my soul, my heart. Whatever you call it. I mean this that makes us what we are. What we fear, what we hide and why, why this and why that. Why everything. So I came to the hopeless place – one step farther into the labyrinth no one could reach – where I was convinced I was alone in the whole world, because would it matter if I had thousands of people in my life, but trust no one? It wouldn’t, would it? Only shallowly and I was never one to care about shallow. Nothing that couldn’t give me a headache for thinking too much, or reach me in some level of my loneliness, or I don’t know, make my life goes upside down was worth my while. I was like a masochist. Always seeking something that could make me retreat even more, but reality was: I was trying to get used to the fact I wouldn’t change ever, and that there were people like me. People who had struggles and would never overcome them. People who were outsiders and had never met the one who’d make them feel normal. My whole life was spent in trying to achieve conformism, instead of trying to change. Isn’t it… mortifying? Yes, it is. And it ultimately led me to the watching the whole word burn, because then I understood I simply didn’t care about it. I was lost and hopeless. I couldn’t bring myself to worry about what could happen to me or to anyone. I was lacking of empathy. A certain kind, because I still had feelings, I still felt pity for some people. Or restrained love for others. But is it what we should feel? It’s pathetic. I was watching everything burn into reddish little pieces until everything was charcoal and ashes. And although I cared…

I didn’t.