Please keep in mind that I am not a good writer. I'm clever, but don't have the writer's touch, so if you do
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Thanks.
Antiquated, the young man sat. Bewildered, alone, desperate and in a state of confusion. All was quiet- he was not. All was dead- he was not. The whole world was in a silent outrage- he was outraged at the whole world, but not so silently. The world had changed, yet he had not.
There was a time when change was an adventure and the idea of adventure would never change. Chances and risks built a solid foundation of love and hope, truth and beauty were found in a gamble or a bet, and the economy boomed like it fell. Life had no middle ground and as such, life had no end. All has changed.
Most things in life are ironic, but for the most part, they’re not. A paradox is a paradox and so it is never questioned. A changing world, changed into an unchanging world. Irony as a concept was lost on all but one and the paradox held no hinting truth or contradiction, but merely was as all things are- true or false.
In the middle of an unchanging world, the man began to scream. He screamed as though someone would listen, as though someone would be there to listen. The silent observer didn’t stop screaming, nor did he ever start. For the whole of eternity he screamed, but no one heard, nor did he do anything that one could hear.
‘The world,’ he thought ‘has never looked so bleak, so monotonous and dreary, but then again, it has never looked so pleasant, so serene and tranquil’. His thoughts:
‘What does come from such a site? What does such a site come from? Peace and hope and other such archaic concepts, of course. No- death and anguish and other such modern concepts. But, what does come from such a site? Nothing. What is such a site? Nothing. Where is such a site? Everywhere.’[This message was edited on 02-24-04 at 01:47 AM.]
