Tick Tock [short story]

born th[i]s way

Sunday, July 21th, XXXX ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀19:27

United States of America

NXX XXXX

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The word I’m thinking of is legacy. I wish to leave a legacy. There’s some satisfaction in knowing that. There’s still a hole though. And I don’t know how to mend it, and thinking that I will have to live with this hole for the rest of my life seems painful. Life suddenly feels pointless.

Every day, it will be the same. Every day, in an urge to appease my mother and counselor and the hole in myself, I will record. And when I am done, the hole seems to shrink. But the next day, it tears and becomes wider and I have to try again. The cycle repeats. It doesn’t stop. It’s so monotonous.

Why? Why was I born like this?Why couldn’t I have been on of those shallow, dumb, narcissistic, selfish, or shameless people that were placed on this world? Why couldn’t I have wished for wealth or success rather than wishing to be a legacy? Why was this burden placed on me?

Why do I record? Why do I wish to record? Why do I want to remember?

Why?

Why?

Why?

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Sorry that I haven't been updating this story for quite a while, guys! It just sort of slipped my mind, and then I never got around to it.