Ode to a pessimist

You look at the mirror and all you see are the faults.

The faults that others supposedly love.

What is there to love when the soul is shallow of human inadequacy?

You try to look at yourself from the inside.

The corrosion is too much. It is not worth fixing. You should try to buy a new self.

People leave you. Bleeding. They don´t care. It makes them happier.

You resent that. How can they actually do something to make themselves happy? Can´t they see that they are as destroyed as you are?

You never choose consciously or subconsciously something to make you feel better.

That would be too selfish.

You destroy what does make you feel better.

The future is just repetition of you carrying yourself through the same dark paths.

Not much to see there.

Black. Absence of colour.

Absence of them. Absence of him. Absence of you.