My Existence

When one exists in a world where the existence of others maybe inexistence for one, it is hard to imagine how life would be for one who feels like inexistent at all. Like it's as if existence may be one great deal between life and death. Like it's as if inexistence be like a silent poison waiting to be swallowed by an unsuspecting idiot. The days maybe absurdly vague and without trail - something that makes it more fiercely sad and boring – yet it is only by one’s humanity that brings color to life and self. When one's existence may be no lesser than a piece of mediocrity, then that becomes the worse nightmare of all. Yet, despite the redundancies of the rhythmic, though unnecessarily pleasing, music we call life, there is a distinct attraction to certain notes that do not sync. When one gets accustomed to the classic and smooth flow of existence, then one asks how monotonous, how dull, how uninteresting. It is by the topsy-turvy nature of existence that we enjoy and appreciate our being, because without this same ingredient, life would be nothing more than a shapeless rock, never been polished and broken to sparkle.