The Never-ending Cycle.
I faced forward with my back against the once nostalgic view of meagerly lit concrete walls. Taking one step at a time, I once more escaped an empty defeat. Step with the right. Step with the left. Enter heel first. End with the toes. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. It’d repeat itself until I went somewhere. Somewhere where time equates to sustenance and nothing more, then I’d have to walk somewhere else. A place where the interior only consists of what is necessary, although what is deemed necessary is much too cruel compared to human standards. Food that required sacrifice. Furniture made and rectified by the weary. Water stole from beings who now thirst. That is what is necessary for survival. To thrive, I think that required something displayed on screens or books. I think… I think I knew what it meant to thrive at one point. Yea. I did…
I’ve fallen in love twice, and I’ve been lied to twice. Once was with a city, where the concrete scraped the skies. The lights were never just yellow or white, and the green of nature never grew wild. There was blue that often crashed into the structures of man. The people there had a background similar to mine, despite there being such a fairly large populace. The place was completely foreign, yet it felt like home. That is where I wanted to be; it is where I longed to go. I played my part as a human battery. I trod the dirt the people call concrete. I ate the rubbish the gluttons called food. I gazed upon the brightness the fools called light. I did all that so that I could live once more in blissful ignorance. The city lied to me though. I was given sights of nostalgia and beauty, yet it was meaningless, for I was the one who made it meaningless. I had lost too many hours on working towards that glorious view. It's hard to glorify something that has caused you much agony. Justifying lost time and relations with something as simple as a location isn't justified.
In that same place, I fell in love once more. There was a café that faced the Han River. Insight was the world’s second tallest building and the N Seoul Tower which glowed bright green indicating that air pollution was light. There was the movement of green, purple, yellow, white, red, and orange amongst the night. Next to me was someone who still loved glorious sights. She peered out the balcony from her stool, as she sipped on cheap cocoa. For some reason, she took an interest in me. One day I asked her why, and she responded with, “it was because of the way you were sitting on the edge of the railing, whilst the grandmas and servers playfully scolded you. When I came to approach you, I asked for your name, but instead, you replied with the words, “many often mistake my name for the words masochist, freeloader, or shut-in.” I didn’t understand the sincerity behind her statement, and I passed it off as a joke. We were never intimate or anything; we were just good friends. She reminded me a lot of a childhood friend I once knew, so I took a liking to her. She told that me that she’d always be there for me whenever I needed help. For a long time, I greatly appreciated the sentiment and the help that followed. Her statement was a lie though. She died of a premature death, and life was once more bitter. It seems as if I subconsciously drive people away from me, and if they stay, they only end up getting hurt, or worse. It's the Hedgehog's dilemma in action.
It’s saddening that anything good requires an experience mutually shared between two or more people. The conscious effort is to rectify our biological drive, but I don’t want to do any of that. I’m tired of thinking, and I’m tired of blurring the lines. I think… that the answer lies somewhere in the present. Answer? Yeah… there must be some universal truth behind the universe. Truth? Well… if logic is utilized by everyone, then logic must’ve been used by those around me to derive some meaning or else they wouldn’t have- Perhaps you’re just too stubborn to submit yourself to chaotic yet joyful nature of reality. Joyful? How can I be joyful if my subconscious simply won’t allow it? Whose fault is that? I don’t think that matters anymore. Why? It’s just too vague of a question, so it has too many answers. Why? It’s so monotonous. Asking yourself simple questions that are just too vague. Why? Shut up… Shut up… Shut up!... SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! Why? …. Yeah…. why…?
I'm open to constructive criticism, and I'm sorry that the first chapter doesn't really advance the story. I just wanted to get the protagonists thoughts and ideals out there before moving.