Note that I have not made one amendment so grammatical errors will exist.
Hope you guys enjoy:
Statement of Intention: To create an imaginative piece based on the final moments before death. I attempted to convey the person’s reflection on his life and the depression he suffered.
“He’s tough outside, but weak as hell inside.” This comment from a close friend describing me has forever been engraved into my mind. It is this comment which generated my struggle in life; my struggle to be recognised, to be tough, to reach the epitome of greatness and most of all to search for a life where dreams do come true.
I dreamt night after night that one day I would become one of “them”; they who I envied, they who I desired to be; they who live a perfect life of mindless luxury. I pictured myself without the pain that I’ve carried; the broken heart and the endless abhorrent memories. I dreamt I stepped into their shoes; their continuous nights of entertainment, they who have no external pressure to break through to the higher echelon of society…because they are already there. I dreamt of their many entourages offering themselves at will, people who compromised their own demise to simply appease “them”. But then they would hold up a mirror, a mirror which reflected my pitiful existence and my inability to adapt into a demanding society…I wondered to myself “only if I was one of them”.
I dreamt week after week that the dark clouds hovering above me would simply disappear. The clouds which carried all the misfortune and melancholy within me; the clouds which would not reveal any light at the end of the tunnel but rather force me to hang onto my miserable past. Only if those clouds could be blown away by an effortless breath. I dreamt of the sunshine breaking through, breaking through the stubborn barrier that is my defected appearance, for the sunshine to bring a new light to my life; for the sunshine to remove all my flaws and to evolve me into someone “better”… someone who is approachable, someone who possesses all the attributes that classifies as “perfect”…“Only if I was one of them”.
I dreamt year after year that I might meet “the one”, “the one” who would gaze into my eyes not to demean me but to search for the little warmth that is left in me. Waiting for that someone to enlighten my morbid life, to show me that the objective of life is not simply to accomplish materialistic goals, waiting for that someone to drag me out of a life that is embedded in depression. I envisioned her; I imagined her; I pleaded for her to enter my life and prevent me from spiralling into a dark abyss... I dreamt of a new life devoted to her; devoted to optimism, devoted to relish this opportunity of a new lease in life like a sunflower blossoming under the rays of sun. Suddenly my world stood still bathed in dreariness, it seemed I would never be able to locate “the one”; I would never be able to experience the pleasures of satisfaction and contentment, and that disappointment was inevitable…Even my dreams were shrouded in jealousy and “only if I was one of them”.
I stopped dreaming, I stopped dreaming about “them”; I stopped dreaming about “the one”, I stopped dreaming about the ideal life which I would never fulfil. I did not want a fictional world where everything was transparent; I wanted to pursue a life full of happiness, a life where I did not have to prove myself to be worthy, a simple life where innuendos and insinuations did not exist. Was I living on false hope? Was my life simply to be “one of them”? … Those questions will be forever unanswered.
My dreams receded, my breathing laboured, time was soon to be obsolete. My body and mind united in accepting death. My disembodied spirit rose higher and higher: I looked down but not on my face but my back. The back which had turned away endless opportunities. Now it’s too late…