In the midst of everything I was ignored. Daily I’d stand hand extended, the crowds hustling past shunning connection proffering false intimacy. Sullen and rejected I watched time accelerate, crowds thin and pass me by.
My life never amounted to anything, it was a momentary swirl of occurrence with me standing alone upon high cliffs wind in my hair watching sunrises and sunsets while breathing in infinite possibilities but never plunging into the abyss of those possibilities. What was it about about mortality I didn’t understand.
On my tombstone the words “he loved standing at the waters edge” are enough, no tones of black derision painting my life as a failure are needed. I want my simple marker to consist of allusions to what I didn’t do. Some among you will see between the words and understand how my existence fell short, those not reading between the lines will pass by neglecting the opportunity to know who I wasn’t, afraid to see their own defecencies.
I forgot, I’ve forgotten how everything changes from what we thought it would be.
