I’m reflecting on my past days, reconsidering my choices and actions. So much has been wasted. Passions have turned dull. Nothing ignites a sense of purpose. What can a soul do but grow old and be forgotten?
Not that there’s much to remember. I used to enjoy creative activities like writing, painting, and singing, even if no one appreciated them. My creativity allowed me to express myself, but I eventually stopped. Now I feel lost and hide away, feeling fat, ugly, and untalented. I fake a smile and thank others for their insults. It’s better to please them, even if it means losing my will to live. It’s painful, but that’s the reality.
All that remains is the silence to embrace. For it won’t be long before I’ll be long gone. And nobody left to even remember or care. So is the way of life.
All that remains is hope in Christ. His words matter most. Even when I’m gone, His word will stay. It brings comfort to know this.
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