Full stop.

You’re worthless.
You’ll never amount to anything.
You’re worth nothing.
You’ve heard these words before.
Like a movie.
Like a train.
Spoken, said, coming.
Full speed.
But constant.
Whispering.
Quiet, as one; but loud, as a thousand voices at once.
You’ll never have everything.
It won’t be good enough.
You won’t be good enough.
You won’t be.
You won’t be.
You won’t be.
You reading this.
You – writing this.
You know self-pity gets you nowhere.
At least if you’re self-aggrandizing, you’re getting somewhere.
But look at you, you’re getting nowhere.
Say it one more time if you couldn’t hear it over the other shouted doubts.
You’re going nowhere.
But that’s everywhere you’ve been.
All you’ve known.
Helping verbs, like the help you’ve never gotten – from yourself.
You just can’t help yourself but to self-pity.
Pathetic.
A true pity, honestly.
Full stop.
What was that?
That noise.
Yes, that noise. You hear it.
Do it.
Yes, that.
Do it.
Scared of the cold or scared of the pain?
Can’t be scared of the regret when it’s all said and done, set.
Won’t be able to remember or forget.
Won’t be able to —

He gazed off in the distance, but the black backdrop hindered the extent of his vision. It was a pretty night outside, he had to admit, to himself. It was colder than usual – all the talk of the Earth getting warmer, but it was colder than usual. He enjoyed it for a change. After getting lost in his mind for an undisclosed while, he again gazed off in the distance. The waning moon was lit enough to illuminate the night; still, it wasn’t enough to make his mood bright. He looked down and thought about the fall. The seconds would last forever, and the peace found while weightless would be immeasurable. With the stars in the background, it’d be pretty. But if it didn’t end there, it’d be painful and cold. He’d be there, painful and cold.

Full stop.
What was that?
That noise.
Yes, that noise.
You hear it.
Clear skies, blue waves, reminiscent.
You missed it, but now you can hear it.
How could you forget it?
Either it’s over and you can’t feel.
Or you made it and all you can feel –
Pure bliss.
Happiness.
How could you forget?

The warmth from the sun embraced him. He didn’t mind the heat; the heat didn’t spite him like a stranger. The breeze from the sea enticed him. He didn’t feel the need; the need to be more than a stranger – to explain, or articulate, how he felt, at this time, what he felt, or who he was, to anyone, anyone except himself, yet especially himself. It didn’t matter. The wind was to his back, the sun upon his face, and the present flowed before him, like the river at his feet, upwards and then eventually downwards, ceaselessly. There was a concept of wind, and the concept of the sun, but he only knew them in this moment, temporarily flirting with eternally… It was a clear day. He saw a clear stream. The moment would encompass forever. He smiled.

Full stop.