Death Within Misery

I sat there… just sitting there. Being a leader was not pleasurable. Because when you are a leader, you are pitted against the other leaders. Which is certainly not a pleasurable feeling. As well as the fact that being a leader meant that your group just formed… and followers either followed you, or followed another leader. There were… a few leaders in such a class as mine… Each one with their own followers, whether they had a miniature amount or a large ones; thus, when I was left alone with not a single follower, I had no choice to become a follower myself.1

Such a thing did not work out very well. After came my empty adventure as the single person in my own group, both leader and follower, always away from the regular society. Irregular, yes, except… was there really a problem with that- the answer is yes. 2

Such a problem that I have become the terrible writer I am, writing about my dramatic life in such a dramatic way: I write too many dot-dot-dots just to add to the effect. Such a feeling makes me an idiot. Such an idiot, viewed as from my own and many other eyes. Such a cold, idiotic feeling...3

I sobbed softly to myself in the confines of my private, peaceful reservation. I stared down at the mud through blurry vision, watching as my salty tears stained the floor. I felt miserable right then and there, so extremely miserable. And so the days went on, each one becoming more painful and more miserable. I was alone: alone, idiotic, and left to be both leader and follower at the same. I quickly brushed away the small teardrops, looking up at the sunshine, letting them dry out and forcing myself to blink them away mostly so that my eyes didn’t sting from the bright glow of the burning sun. 4

I felt dizzy, and a psychotic emotion ran through my veins, my blood seeming to rush into my head suddenly, like the feeling I felt when I’d hang down from the monkey bars when I was a child, swinging and screaming in joy. Except now I sat there limply, holding back another rush of tears and facing such pain. I collapsed onto the cement floor on the other side of the small wall, which protected the large tree and the mud keeping it protected. 5

I felt wet, sticky blood mix with the tears, and trying hard to keep my mouth from letting out the terrific scream from my open mouth. I slowly lost most feeling, going numb, unable to blink. I couldn’t scream… my gum went dry from keeping my mouth open for so long. I forced myself to shut it: another surge of pain. It throbbed away eventually… as did all other feeling, and I slowly drifted into a confused unconsciousness.