Before the Failure

He was born not one less of an ordinary guy. His countenance familiar of inherent solitude, desolation and quietness. Through all his childhood, he was never a child. No plays, no friends, no flocks, no nothing. He grew up secluded and far from the warmth of human emotions. He never wanted to be like this. But fate must have presupposed him to endure deep beyond the darkest of agony and affliction. Brave is his heart, for a thin body to bear mountains of sorrows and rivers of unending prejudices.

He had never been granted a wish. He had hardly been noticed. Only whispers of wind on a violent storm seems to reverberate in the emptiness of his heart. And he longed. But never heard.

Days passed in his own solitary confinement. Living a life inexistent and meaningless. No one knew what he has gone through, even his parents have never bothered to care asked how life’s been to this child deprived of any thing worthy of reminiscence.

It would be a big surprise to see him smile and utter words confirming any relationships. His heart cried. His eyes wiped. Alone, lingering, oftentimes. He developed self–pity and self-loathing. He could hardly define the words “love”, “family” and “care”. He has never met any association. He would have probably declined from any.

He disliked people. He hated going to places where there’s people. He became aloof and disgruntled. He had no choice. He had never been given any. He never saw himself part of a family, much less the society. He never dared to mingle and put a care on what’s going on outside the real world. He has his own world, sealed with fiberglass of hate, grudge and incognizance.

This guy is suffering profusely, much more than an internal hemorrhage. His heart full not of love and innate positive feelings but with anger, ill and yearning that we could have all been born blind. No views, all is but fairness. For he believed darkness emanates so much equality and peace.

His sad luck couldn’t get any better. For the worst of times, he stood alone, trying to capitalize on what’s on hand. Though the road he’s heading might be cruelly uncertain, he nonetheless faced each passing day with fascination and hope for the fulfillment of his dreams.

He has lots dreams, to become rich and help his family. To give himself what he would have always wanted, to be himself, just as he truly is.

Twenty-one years have gone by. Looking back through all the hardships and journeys that seemed impassable, the always keep-to-himself guy has finally saw a star that could shed some light to his buried and denied life.

At last, though not totally relieved of the things which have used to escort his life’s schedule, he would soon began to harvest the fruits of his labour.

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I have written this article nine years ago, when I was still young and vibrantly dreaming.