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Walking on Failure

My feet ache as I walk on the road. My hands clenched in fists from anger. Tears crawling down my face from sorrow. My mind scrolling through all the heart-stabbing memories and gut-wrenching thoughts I faced throughout my life. All this while I glide over my old hopes and dreams. My unfinished goals and projects. All abandoned by me, when I was grieving of failure. I passed by what looked like a wooden clock. During my life, I would always wonder how much time I had. How much time it would take for something miraculous to happen to me. Passed that, there's a bouquet of roses. A token of love, hope, that would give you enough courage to fight on, from whatever darkness surrounded you. Something I never got. Onward from that, was a photo, of what seemed to be a family. A mother and father graciously holding their two children, a boy and a girl. They seemed happy, complete almost. Looking closer, I could see the girl's face. She seems vaguely familiar, almost like we have a connection somehow. Then I wonder: Could it be me? Could I have once been happy? Before I can figure that out, the photo vanishes. Just gone. Gradually, so does everything else. The road, the roses, the clock, all gone. Faded away into nothing, or was it I that faded from them? I can't answer that, because at that moment, the darkness came for me. It settled over me like a blanket, like when a father tucks his daughter into bed. I didn't fight it, I just let it take me into the black void. To a place where I would never feel happiness, love, never feel anything.



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