Like An Anachronism

“I’m scared sometimes that I’ll never find out. That I’ll always feel this gaping hole and never be able to fill it. And my only merit would be to have existed as long as I would have—a sort of congratulations on not dying. “

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Edit by: Unknown Artist

“I feel like the last of my species sometimes. Like a human-shaped dinosaur. ” she laughed grimly.

“As though I were existing by accident, as if I were a thing of the past already. An absurdity, an anachronism.  Something someone would point to to say it did not belong. Or something to stick in an exhibit in a museum for people to ooh and aah at. Except that I would be an object with no discernible history.  As if my history was buried with me, and it got left behind when I was unearthed, reborn into the world. I’m scared sometimes that I’ll never find out. That I’ll always feel this gaping hole and never be able to fill it. And my only merit would be to have existed as long as I would have—a sort of congratulations on not dying.

“No one understands, really. The only ones who can would be others like me. Other people from the past. Only they would understand the pain of a thousand years of living without remembering any of it. But I don’t fool myself into thinking they would be the answer. They might understand, but they have their own pains to tend to. Their own callings to answer to.  No, what we need are people with a love of old things. People who do not mind if you are a bit broken, because they understand that it’s pretty amazing that you’re here at all.”

When You’re Not What You’re Supposed To Be (Part II)

“It was stupid of him to ask the lily to grow and blossom like the rose had…Why then was he doing that to himself?”

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Illustration Credits: https://www.facebook.com/elesqart/

He had come up with an excuse to escape then, a sloppy one. One they would decidedly never believe. Surely, his phone would be ringing up in a few hours.

As he pushed open the door to his mess of an apartment, he numbly decided to ignore the clothes strewn all over the place and the balled-up pieces of paper that contained an incomplete masterpiece.

Instead, his feet took him to the balcony. It was the one thing in his life that looked like it had been given importance.

There were flowers of all kinds everywhere. Daisies, roses, poppies, lilies, hyacinths and many others surrounded him.

He sighed.

What about him?

What…Who was he? Where was he going?

His friends…they had all sat on the same school benches, had experienced happiness and heartbreak, had lived their youths together, all as one, and now…Now they all were on their paths to happiness whilst he was lost trying to find his.

And him, what about him!? He nearly cried.

His head hung in shame and sorrow, and blankly, almost lifelessly, he touched the lilies that had yet to bloom.

“Why can’t you just – just blossom already!” he cried in sudden anger.

He had bought the rose and lily seeds and had planted them at the same time, and yet, these lilies stubbornly refused…

But then, he remembered something.

On the back of the package, it had said that these would take longer to grow, simply because, well, lilies were lilies. Lilies could not grow as fast as roses, or else they might as well be roses. But they would eventually bloom.

It was just that they were…different, and so, they grew differently.

It was stupid of him to ask the lily to grow and blossom like the rose had…Why then was he doing that to himself?