Sad night

The sun goes down, painting the horizon of purplish red shortly before a black veil is spread. All I see is darkness. It's like the sky feels shy and shuts its eyes. Shining stars and fireflies are the only light my sad and tired eyes can see through the tears that roll down my face. Not even the moon appeared tonight to make the night silver in colour. The Orion's Belt still glitters, though. I still see light at the end of the tunnel, although that end is a plethora of light years from me, and my life doesn't last but some decades. If only I could reach that sputtering star! The dew falls gently on the thyme, decorating its leaves with gracious drops, like the night is crying its darkness. All I see is tears. The owl hoots and all I hear is cry. Sounds of the night feel like sadness: a cricket, a heartbeat, a mutter. The sun will come up again. It will, eventually. But for my eyes, covered in tears, it's all the same. Darkness. A heart that beats, but doesn't love. A blood that runs like an arrow without a target. A life that lives without a purpose.

Lonely

I feel lonely. Not lonely in a world full of people, but in a universe full of galaxies. I feel like I'm unprotected, alone on a floating globe, at the mercy of my destiny. At the mercy of whatever comes from the space. Or from my fate. I've always felt like that. As a kid, I used to think Earth was a globe and we were inside of it. On the inside face of a ball full of air. Protected. Then I discovered we're actually on the outside face of it. Unprotected. The Earth was supposed to take care of me, I'd think. I still recall the nights I couldn't sleep thinking of that. Feeling lost and abandoned in a random spot of the infinite universe. Just a little dot on a sheet of paper that has no borders. Abandoned in space and in time. I wonder what it would be like to time travel. I'd travel to the end of my life to see if the end is like the beginning. We are born crying and die suffering. The moments after birth are painful and so are the moments before death. Birth, death, the beginning, the end, they seem to be all the same. And the interval between them is just an aimless walk from one to the other.

I

Why am I here? Who am I? Why am I myself and not somebody else? The very thought of the concept of I seems to be nonsense if you think of it. I deem myself to be I, but so does everybody else to themselves. So which I am I? Why do I care about this I who is nothing more than one I amongst so many others? What or who would I be if I wasn't me? Why do I crave happiness? Or, rather, what's happiness? I wonder whether happiness really exists or is just an escape our minds create from the emptiness of the nonsense that life is. After all, I'm I only for myself. Everybody is their own I. We are so insignificant for the universe and yet we create our own universe inside us. A universe that is so huge, maybe even bigger than the cosmos itself. I'm actually quite aware of that, nevertheless I can't think of any other way of thinking. I can't see myself as just a lost point in the universe. I can't just not care. I want to flee from myself, but wherever I go, I'm there. And I'm there not as a random being. I'm I. I'm always carrying that burden. I can't just shoulder it. Happiness. Always seeking that. What does it matter? I don't know. It's maybe a curse we have. I need to be happy, even though I don't even know what happiness is. Do salmons know what they're going to do at the end of their colossal voyage up the river? Do they know what they're risking their lives for? I don't believe so. But they still do it. They still find the necessity to do it. I chase happiness like a salmon eager to find its way up the river. I don't know what I'm chasing.