Title: speck

An explorative piece I thought of while staring into my desktop's screen at 3.a.m

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What am I?

I ask, grasping my chest as I look at the mirror.

What am I?

A speck.
No sand.
No dust.

Just a speck of nothing.

As I look back into the past.

As I fantasize about the maybes.

I realize, nothing would change.

All my fantasy, all my alternate decisions and timing would all end in some form.

It was a predetermined outcome; my failure.

My sole magnum opus.

I am a speck.

Even if i were to be drop into a still river, no ripple would come, no droplets would bounce.

To even imagine a tidal wave of change would be foolish.

I am a speck.

Nothing would, could or ever change for me, for the river of life, for the tidal of change.

If I were swallowed, I would not remain.

I am a speck.

Empty of dreams and tears.

Ambition driven but dead yet breathing.

Cold to the touch yet warm to the embraced.

I am a speck.

My fate was a foregone conclusion, and so I reside in my nihilism and comfort myself in the meaningless.

I am a speck.

Because I am a speck, it is okay for me to not receive what I yearn for.

Romance, it's better for you to find someone better than me because seeing you happy alone contents me.

Even if I were to be hurt, I would accept that outcome.

Friends, it is better for to leave me, I hold no value to speak.

I am happy to see you happy and successful.

Family, it is better for you to ignore me, I bring nothing but shame and regret.

I am content with being invisible, even if it hurts.

I am happy, is what i repeat.

Yet I am a speck.