The Pity of Us Seen Through The Eyes Of None, To Be Exactly Accurate: Short Story3 min read

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On this driveway, the moon seems so low and close tonight I can almost reach it.

It’s almost like it’s watching me, observing me, thinking in a anthropomorphic fashion it almost be like it was interrogating me, I looking at it, it looking at me. Typical me.

I haven’t been honest with myself. I’ve avoided the deepest part of reflection against myself, against the sake of myself.

In the pit of my being, or psyche,  I’ve known things. I’ve known various things, and among these things are things that I’ve knew not to be right.

Something just wasn’t quite one hundred percent.

But hence, I trudged on, I had more important things to worry about than myself, such as, my bills for instance. I guess It makes sense that my bills are more important than myself, how much of a rejection of self realization is that?

I’ve been beside myself for so long that I’ve fooled myself. Are these things I have come to accept really what I’ve come to know, or just what I’ve come to accept?

If someone where to ask me about it there would be two stories, both would claim to be true, but which one would actually be the reality of the situation? I don’t think I would even know, and the fact of it would be the thing that would tear me apart, I mean, who am I really, and what do I follow?

For what do we follow? Do we not have legs, and eyes of our own? Or is it really that we really just don’t know where to go? Some of us pretend to know where to go, they pretend for the rest of us too, for some of us that’s okay, just good enough. We’ve come to accept certain things as our own are mostly based on the most agreeable argument, more suitable to our agreeing interests.

We are scum. Specs of dust, on a marble amongst specs of dust that could crush us if they felt so inclined to cross paths with us.

We are self centered scum, we please ourselves and paint our reality around what we want, no wonder why no one else believes what we say or do to be genuine. Most of our translucent actions are plain to see to those who have eyes, and others the things we say plain to hear to those who have only ears.

It’s funny to think we have these things figured out. We base what we’ve figured out, on what we’ve figured out, and in turn what we’ve figured out really is that we’ve figured out something. Joy for those who subscribe to us huh.

It’s a pity. It’s a pity for us. We’re too simple minded to see it. Or, we’re too simply pleased to hear what agrees to what we’ve figured out to see past even that.

What a pity for those that are us.

Mail in hand, I close the door and behind me with it whatever remained of that self reflection.

Wolfe Spires

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