Anticlimactic

"THE EMPIRES OF THE WORLD WILL FALL"

The end is inevitable.

One day, the world will come crashing down on us in a series of nonsensical mannerisms and nothing will make sense in the way that it used to. A day will come upon us where we'll be questioned and tried, poked and prodded at to reveal our true selves and we will all fail to come up with an answer. The world as we know it isn't quite as it seems, and who we think we are can be perceived as a completely different persona to another.

I hope that in the end, the person people perceive me to be will be proud of the person that I actually am.

On the inside, I feel as if I'm a series of tangents, a tangled web of lies and deceits that have been pushed down, down, down, buried six feet under until it's reached its own layer of hell and is so unrecognizable from the outside world that even those with the most curious of minds are too perplexed to question the nature of its being. In my entirety, I am a human made up of experiences and moments and memories, and I am too unfocused and confused to remember the good of them. It's a part of nature for us to overlook the good and to focus on the bad, to ignore our strengths and feel inclined to fix our weaknesses, to fail to cherish those who love us and to interrogate those who don't - is it a part of human nature for us to completely tear ourselves apart?

I do not hate myself.

At least not in the manner that people would assume if I were to say that I hate myself. The person I appreciate myself to be, when those close and dear to me tell me they love me, is not the person that I actually am but is the person that I so hope to be. Eventually, the tricks and games that my mind has thus far played on me in the catastrophic chase of respecting myself will catch up to me, and the wicked truth of it all will be exposed.

I hope that, in that moment, I will not be disappointed. I hope that in the end, I'll be able to live with myself for another day, another week, another lifetime - I hope to be able to continue to love and cherish and adore in the way that I know how despite the looming thought of it being the incorrect way. I think that on the inside, I know what is right but how? How do we know what is inherently right or inherently good or inherently of virtue when I am not you and you are not me? How are we to settle the everlasting argument of which direction to point all our questions in when we don't know the answers ourselves?

I believe that the answers are inside of us.

Deep down, we know what is right, and although we'll have to cross the most treacherous of paths and scurry over the most precarious of ledges, the answer will reveal itself and the world will make a little more sense.

Until then, I'll watch the world crumble, piece by piece, and wonder where it is that I really belong. And until then, I'll try to make a place for myself in this world although it's of false hope that my place will last or be of any significance. Because one day, even the greatest empires of the world will crumble and all that we know will be lost. All that we think will be altered and the very core of our beliefs will be altered, and I shall remain, beaten and battered and covered in dust, but still standing, only then I'll have nowhere left to go.