26) The Mirror Analogy

I once heard a beautiful analogy about life. If you've heard it, bear with me. I regretfully cannot remember where it's from.

Life is a constant shattered mirror: you pick up the pieces and try to put it together, but you always end up cutting yourself on the edges. And your reflection keeps changing relative to where you are.

Life regrettably, is not a simple mirror. that would be too easy. I've been doing some heavy thinking about my life and the lives of those around me lately, and I don't really like what I see.

For one, I'm quite pessimistic in thinking nobody reads this blog or cares about what I'm saying. This is mostly because I am not everybody, and I sure as hell would not waste my time on an obscure little web page in the middle of nowhere.

I've always had that pessimism seep into all parts of my life. If my English Final on this blog were any indication, it's that I've clearly given up on some things in my life. One such thing would be the optimism I once had.

This is another part of the rough spots in my life. In the long run, like this post, it's disjointed, confusing, and utterly pointless. But that's just me.

Internet ranting is one way I try to alleviate this pain, but all I every see is the endless swirl of evil and darkness that covers everything.

But what scares me the most is that I'm willing to reveal all of this online, because I'm adamant that no one is actually listening. Or caring.

So what of it? Does humankind have some trick up their sleeve to make me feel better? Nope. I have to suck it up, living another day with this depression that's been on my shoulders for five years. Five years of suffering and no one's tried to help me.

Maybe I'm better off not knowing anything else. Day by day I can criticize stuff, put it on this blog, and it won't matter. Strange that human capacity for kindness is rarely shown, and yet contempt and hate are much easier alternatives.

Self discovery has forced me into this little alley on that street. People walk by, living their lives, and nobody who ever looks down that alley wants to go in. Not worth their time and patience.

Or perhaps it's the place I'm growing up in. Surrounded by heaps of pessimism that automatically take form every time a conversation is started, every time something else happens.

And on top of that, it's raining outside. Just an endless torrent of water, flowing around me, chilling me to the bone. The idea of finding happiness in the rain seems impossible to me now.

I think I can finally say for sure what this blog is for. A final eulogy. A epitaph. Something to mark all those accomplishments I've won over in my studies. Proof that I tried to make this world a better place by criticizing it.

When I die, I think I could say I tried pretty hard. But it wasn't good enough.