So I wrote a blog, Bodily Imprisoned.
Point is, my inspiration for it was this short story I wrote for my Trials.
I figured if I typed it up it'd help me remember it for the real exam next week :S
I have done ZERO study.
It was fascinating to see the world from his perspective.
This world is a cruel world.
Provides a lucky select few with the glorious sensation of living, while the rest of us are left waiting, spending our time pondering.
Pointlessly thinking, pointlessly fearing, pointlessly searching for answers in this cold world.
The crowded tram was rattling violently, my face was pressed up against the window.
Like everyday I watched the children buzzing out of the Private school on Selders street.
So much energy. Too much energy for this dreary afternoon.
Routine should be a thing for robots, at least when they get run-down they can be fixed to keep on working through their monotonous existence.
Poor kids don't know what they're in for.
I remember when I got suspended in Grade 3, I never really came back with any energy... motivation.
I went to St. Peters Catholic, a small school, strict as the hell they preach against.
Mostly a school for young Orphans like myself.
One of the Nuns was telling us about how great God was. It was something I could never quite understand how they expect us to worship a God that had done nothing but punish me since the moment I was born.
I spent most of my time as a baby and toddler in hospital due to severe asthma, and then when I was 6 my mum and dad were taking me to visit my Grandma who was ill in hospital when a truck swerved into us.
I was the only one who survived. I don't think I was meant to survive that day.
I wish I had of been able to escape this hell with them.
Anyway, as I was saying, this Nun was praising the lord when it just all hit me. This life. My future. My past.
I screamed at her to shut up. I screamed she was lying. There was no God.
If there was, then he wasn't a very just God.
I said some words I knew i shouldn't have, and it was not taken too easy.
Stupid really. Those kids had nothing and no-one, and then they get told to replace their nothingness with "God", the man that supposedly caused all their heartache in the first place.
The tram stopped and people shuffled in and out each other, boy did I despise the city.
Lately i've been more anxious than usual. I can't sleep and when I finally do I wake up sweating.
It's this whole idea of killing myself.
Now I know it's not normal for me to wish I was dead.
Doctor's told me this, but I haven't yet taken the pills he gave me.
I just feel like... my soul left with my parents, that I died that day, but my body was left to walk around miserably through each tedious day.
You know, Hypothetically, if I believed that Heaven and Hell existed, then I believe this Earth, this enslavement of our consciousness is hell.
There is no escape. Well actually I think there's one.
It's easy in theory, just hard to test.
The escape is death.
Death is the pathway from this hell to the afterlife, but it's a world of the unknown.
The unknown is feared.
With death comes pain, pain is feared.
But you can't feel pain if your dead. Can you?
Pain and Fear are only two silver bars of my cell.
Then there's time.
Time is an illusion simply to fool the frail human brain that every second of this hells worth living and to make the most of it.
How do you make the most of it?
To be happy you need to feel worthy, you need to belong.
You need to work a job that makes you feel pointless to get money so you can belong to your pointless possessions to gain a synthetic sense of happiness.
You need friends and family.
You need to have motivation.
You need energy to laugh.
I have none of this.
So why waste my time stalling through this highway of hell?
This is my escape plan.
I die. I'm in control of my life now.
I can control my future.
Death is welcoming.
My future of dreaded misery is saying his final words before it leaves.
I know there's more to death than rotting in the ground.
People are just so blinded by living, too trapped in this prison to realize.