Temp.

Everything is temporary. My health, my joy, my sorrow, my money, and my life. Nothing ever lasts forever. But it doesn’t make it any easier, does it?

If anything, it makes it harder to go by.

Knowing that my sorrow is temporary, I focus too much on when it will all blow over, forgetting the important lessons offered by my sorrow.

Knowing that my health is temporary, I worry too much on every step I take that I forgot to enjoy what I have. Then I chastise myself, only to take my health for granted, for what good is a good health if you can’t make the best of it.

Knowing my joy is temporary, I am much too preoccupied at being angry at why I can’t always be happy.

Knowing that the money I owned is temporary, I scrutinized all my spending only to be tired of it all and just spend it so long as I have the means to do so.

Knowing my life is temporary, I pretend like I don’t care but the thought plague my mind ever since.

So, nothing is really forever?

Fear not, for the cycle of stupidity is forever. One man down, another is ready to continue the cycle of stupidity until the world comes to its end.

Maybe.

Who knows?

I sure don’t.


A/N. Impromptu writing is written without a plan at hand by continuously typing the things that crosses one’s mind. It was not meant to be understood, it is a practice for the mind when everything seems so clustered that one cannot control one’s own train of thoughts.

This one is written with Basic Tape’s No Matter playing in the background.

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