#159

And they all gave up.
Already.

I—
I was—

I felt betrayed, honestly.

I truly felt like a knife
had been smacked into my back.

Out of nowhere.

Maybe it was already written.
The signs are probably everywhere.

But—

Here I am.

Despite all my notions of disbelief,
contradictions, being against all
probable chances—

I am hoping.

But—

they already gave up.

What more will there be to it?

I am a man of so little faith.
I question things.
I doubt.

I am mad a lot because of my unluck,

but—

what's the point then?

They've all given up already.

I don't want to.
I really don't.

I'm still hoping,
mind you.

But
is there really any more sense
to keep the faith?

Here I am,
an unbeliever,

yet—

a weird twist—

I really don't want to.

Is this what that little girl felt
when she realized
she was the only one
who brought an umbrella
after everyone kept praying for rain?

Reality is...
such a very strict,
fickle,
and cruel thing.

I know.

Everyone does.

But—

in every good story I've read,
it is the plot twist
that truly engages me.

Oh! Silly me.

I've drifted too far
from my sadness over betrayal.

Oh! What a tragic—

tragic, tragic, tragic life
I am living.

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