Sloth

He was sitting alone, at the beach, and staring out into the dark sea, sheltered by none other than the night sky. There were no clouds hanging overhead, yet the sparkles of the stars did not illuminate the land or the sea one bit. There was no moon either, not even a crescent.

But amidst this dark place, accompanying the gentle breeze and the sounds of the sea, were the snowflakes lightly falling down from the sky. Winter. It was the start of winter. Yet he was there, sitting on the sand, and staring out doing nothing.

He had been doing nothing for a long, long time. Since when, had he been like that? He could not remember.

Going through life, everyday, doing the routine things. Wake up, prepare to go to work, go back home, sleep. And the next day repeats itself. He never thought more about it. He did not have anything more that he wanted to do. He did not desire anything. No ambition, no purpose, and therefore, no striving towards anything in life.

Even the ‘bad guys’ were better than him. For they were alive and working for something, even though they were morally bankrupt in the eyes of society. Not that society was pure and holy. Just that, he was wasting his life away, more than what the ‘bad guys’ were doing. At least, they were exchanging their lives for a temporary pleasure. But him, nothing at all.

Not that he could not. It was that he did not want. He did not want to work hard anymore. He would just put in the bare minimum for everything. Then he would live through his life that way.

No point. There was really no point. For what had the others worked so hard for? There was no point at all.

For glory? No. it will end as soon as you are dead. For money? You could live a decent life with a decent pay from an ordinary job. For personal achievement? No, even those deeds that you did, no matter how great they are, will fade as time goes by. It was pointless.

For what?

He was tired. Really, really tired. He used to be like one of them. But he realized, that there were things, that no matter how hard one worked for, how much one hoped for, how carefully one planned out and how desperately one wanted it, there were things which one simply could not get hold of them.

It was just a fact of life.

And if one could not get what he wanted the most in life, what point was there, to settle for the second wish? Would that not be deceiving oneself? Or accepting reality by killing one’s own desire? How pathetic.

In the end, all the others were working for something temporary. For something meaningless. In the end, when the paths of both their lives end, they would be the same. A living, walking piece of flesh stuck onto the skeleton with a consciousness. That was all there is. That would be all that would be.

In the end, it was simply pointless. Then, it would be best not to do anything.

The snow fell lightly. And for a long time, the scene in front of him, was a literal reflection about the inner state of his heart.

Pencil Leads

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