Everyone gets a trophy.

I could blame you. I could blame her. I could blame him.
I could blame them all.

But truth be said, I can only blame myself.
In the game of chance, you win some and you lose some.
I won two days ago, and I thought I would win again.
Unfortunately, fates had it otherwise.

Without hope, there can be no disappointment.
It is better to be hated sometimes, than to have never been loved.
It is better to have been disappointed sometimes, then to have never seen your dreams come true.
Without losing, there can be no winners.
Participation trophies are a joke.

I stood at the gates of the gladiator arena.

You could hear the crowd roaring, their cheers deafening. The air was dry and sandy. 

The myths, the legends and stories were aplenty. The story of the warrior who upon stepping out of into the ring having his head chewed clean off. The story of the double-headed beast that breathes fire. The story of the prisoner that fought a legion of soldiers and stood tall on the mountain of dead bodies at dusk.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead and let out a sigh. They say the chemical reaction in your brain for both the feeling of nervousness and excitement is the same. I tried to calm my nerves by faking a half-smile, telling myself that this was mere excitement.

“Are you scared?” asked my fellow prison-mate standing next to me.

“Yes.” I replied.

“Well, then let’s be scared together.”

Reckless dancing

In my youth, I thought myself wise.
In my pride, I danced with folly.
I made gambles that were risky,
Of advices, I heeded none.

In my youth, I thought I knew,
The inner and outer workings of life.
I saw the world as my colouring book,
Thought myself too mature for it.

Step after step, I chased after air,
Running and jumping, but landing on my face.
Never once stopped to consider,
That maybe I haven't figured it out.

I was always chasing perfect moments of grandeur,
Never stopping to smell the roses along the way.
Little did I know that the journey,
The little fragments of moments in between make up the destination.

Now I will never relive those memories,
My hopes can't change reality.
The way they are played out in my head,
They are, but untouchable.

Now that I am older and slightly wiser,
This is my only resolve.
In every step I take till death,
That I think myself none the wiser.

His smile, wider than I remember it to be.
But I know. I read his diary.
The pain he's going through.
The loss he suffered.
The smile isn't real.
It's too perfect to be real.

---

I am tired. I stay awake at night, because I'm afraid of closing my eyes. I tell myself I'll be okay, but then every time I shut my eyes, the images just come back. They are burned into my eyelids. And I cannot unsee what I've seen.

Will I ever find rest or respite from this nightmare?
Maybe I'll just have to learn to sleep with my eyes open.
Resentment I see, maybe subconscious.
Maybe it's conscious, but I just try to deny it.

Maybe I'm just not ready to let it go.

Let go

Holding on to nothing,

It's time to let go.

What you think that was, isn't.

What you wish there is, a mere illusion.

It's time to let go.

The past you created did not exist,

The happiness you wish for has long vanished.

The desperate attempts are merely empty clutches,

Can man really clench wind in their fist?

I wish you bluebirds in the spring,

To give your heart a song to sing,

I wish you health, and more than wealth,

I wish you would go, and never look back.

Behind the door.

I heard a voice the other day,
Coming through the wall.
I heard the voice say,
It's over, no more.

I tried to stand waiting,
With your picture in my hand.
I try to be the man waiting,
The man that can't be moved.

No, light a fire and watch it burn,
Let the bridges turn to ash.
I will walk away and not return.
Strangers, again.