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viernes, 24 de noviembre de 2017

The shadow that isn't mine

I can't say that I see it because no one can't see it. Always lurking, never leaving.


Sisyphus


Whenever I think of it, tears fall over my cheeks.

But isn't me the one who is crying.

If I were able to truly love someone else, I will get rid of this curse in an instant. But it was my selfishness what brought me trouble, and it is my selfishness who keeps the good people away. I am the only one to blame.

Or that was what I was told.

While I am alive there is hope. And that is the most twisted part of my suffering. Because despite knowing that my torment is eternal, a part of me wants to believe in freedom and redemption.

Hoping to achieve the impossible, my life is now a way to call that. Sisyphean they will say, and the worst they won't name, because it is enough with my name.

Was I a victim? Or was I the villain? No one knows. That happened so long ago that I don't remember it anymore. There are no gods either, so there is no one to be asked.

If I did the deed, then I deserve this. But what if that wasn't the case? What if I was the plaything of the dead gods? Why can't I quit this damned rock? There are not visible chains on me, and yet I can leave. Is it my guilt the shadow that keeps me here?

How can you fight an enemy that you can't see? And it must be there! Otherwise, why am I still here?

End.


A word from the author


I don't really know why I wrote this. I started it without having idea where was going and in the middle I found Sisyphus. Maybe I am really talking about depression, which is one of the most horrible things to inspire a short horror story.

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