My next class

In fifteen minutes I’ll start my next class until nine tonight. The frenzied traffic outside added more to the turmoil inside of me. Some things start to be comprehensible to me, at least, still a part of me could not understand most of the events surrounding me.

We human beings are rather a pathetic lot who tries to remain sane although we know for a fact that a sane world does not exist. Still we try to hold on to the fact that the world works in an orderly manner; we try to keep ourselves from being disillusioned that what we hold dear, what we value most, are in truth nothing but specks of non-sense.

I try hard to be a good person. To be good in whatever I do, but does it matter? At the end of the day we’ll all be nothing but heaps of dust. We may profess to understand this world, but this understanding will amount to nothing for in the end humanity will forget about the fact that you once walked on this world or that you understood it up to the minutest detail.

Nevertheless, we go on. We force to create a world where we feel valuable, but it’ll be in vain.

I sound hopeless for I am. This life enjoys making us feel really small.

Probably, after my next class the way I’ll think will be totally altered. I hate being in my 20s. Everything seems to be uncertain, shaky, unsure. I want to know at what age will I feel confident about myself and be able to stand for my pathetic values?

Seven more minutes…

I know this is not helpful at all. It’ll be a waste of your time if until now you have not left and continue reading.

But for a writer like me, you having reached this part of my soliloquy (in written form [is that possible?]) is already an appreciation that you see your thoughts written on this page. That you can relate to the struggles I have inside me.

I think have to go. I have to attend to my responsibilities as an adult. God, it’s when you become an adult that the sad reality that being an adult is a boring thing is slapped on you, leaving you with nothing but to either laugh at your self or commit suicide.

I choose to laugh.

For now.

Time is up.

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