Souls

A crushing darkness descends upon me, dragging me down into my personal abyss. The weight of ages further bending my back, forcing me to bow down at the feet of cruel masters. My hands reach for salvation, but the threads of fate wrap tight around me, binding me into eternal servitude.

How long have I been here? My fingers bleed, but I know not what caused it. I work in this dreary silence, without light, never tasting the fruits of my labor. All that I have is ripped from me before it is even mine. I sense the joys of others, but take no comfort in it. No, I have only solitude.

A bleak landscape stretches before me. I cannot see it, but I know it to be there. My legs are too weak to carry me. There could be salvation, or just sustenance,  nearby, but I will not reach it. It is not from a lack of effort, but the chains of guilt and responsibility that hold me fast. I try to cry out, but my lips are cracked with thirst, and my throat parched.

So it is, that I came to be here. Waiting. Wishing for the cold, final embrace of death. An end to this, that which shall never end.

Half Full or Half Empty?

Generally speaking, whether you view the glass as half full or empty determines whether you are an optimist or cynic. I'd like to point out that there are other ways of looking at it.

1) The Paranoid: "Who drank my water?!?"

2) The Ultra Optimist: "It's fine, I can refill the glass."

3) The Ultra Cynic: "This isn't even what I wanted to drink!"

4) The Thief: "This wasn't even my drink!"

5) The Saint: "You can have my half."

And I'm sure there are many more ways to look at it. I guess my point is, there are rarely just two ways of looking at something. I say rarely because we should never say never, and all that.

Not really life altering, profound wisdom, but whatever.