Resignation Pt. 1


Is my suffering nothing more than the product of my rebellion against my own character?

 Why do I strain? What god do I unwittingly, yet piously, worship with my struggling? What prayer am I saying that is contorting my being into unnatural forms?

Damn strife. 
Let me live in peace.

I worried about what my Life calling was.
Let Life worry about its own ends. I am a miserable speck on this planet; if life needs something of me, then it will drag it out of me. 

Just let me be. Let me live in tranquility.
Extinguish the flame.
Let me have peace.
Let me rest easy.
Let me eat modestly and comfortably.

What good did my suffering ever do? At best, I helped bring meaningless order to a tiny corner of the world, and at worst, I left a gentle wake of chaos, one that Life would hardly notice. 

Let me live and then die without suffering.
Don't force me to me pine for the unachievable.
Let me sleep at a reasonable time.
Let me wake up at a reasonable time.
Let me write to clear my head, but don’t make me strain to find words for works that go unread.
I have nothing to offer the world that it doesn't already have in excessive measure.

 My youthful self-imposed suffering was in vain.
Let me resign. 

 Fate, have at me, but be gentle.

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