Leaving friends behind
I wrote this when I was depressed and had a headache, so it's a little depressing and random.
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What will happen, when it all ends? Will we part to resume our daily lives? Will our lives still be there? Will we be able to go on living, without each-other? Will we go on living?
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What will happen to the leader, when all the followers have been left behind? Will he go on to lead, or will his heart be wrenched from his chest as he is wrenched from his home?
He looks out the window and sticks his hands in his pockets. He watches as a lonely figure piles boxes into a truck. He wonders if that figure feels as sad or as lost as he does. The whole world seems to be ending, just as his life is too.
What will happen to the warrior, when all the fights have been won? Will he go on in his lonely pursuit for love, or will his courage stay where his heart truly lies?
He pushes open the door and it creaks gently. He closes it, and then opens it again. It creaks again. He wonders if the creak has always been there, or if it has come to replace the voice of the inhabitant of its room.
What will happen to the fighter, when all the battles have been fought? Will she go on to fight, or will she fail as her friends fail her?
She stares for the last time at the lonely cabinet where he weapon lies. She wonders if she can continue to fight, with weapon or with fist, even after her heart has given up fighting.
What will happen to the hunter, when the prey has gone away? Will she continue to hunt, or will she become the hunted as her life collapses?
She traces a crack in the wall and peers round the corner, from where she can see a coveted person. She wonders if he can hear her whispering to him, even though he does not respond, and if he shall be able to hear her whispering from a thousand miles away.
What will happen to the brawn, after only the weak remain? Will he continue to be as strong on the inside, as he is on the outside?
He feels the rain begin to fall. It is like a million tiny hands patting him on the head. He wonders if he has ever felt this way before, so small, and helpless, and weak.
What will happen to the brains, when everything has been learnt? Will he continue to learn, or will life's lessons have proved too difficult?
He pulls on his jacket and prepares to go outside. Something makes him hesitate. He wonders what he was never told, and will never be told. Was it important?
What will happen to the good-looking, when he sets off on his own? Will he continue to be self-centred, or will he have realised the true meaning of life too late?
He takes one last look in the mirror and, as he turns, knocks his elbow against it. It falls to the ground and smashes into a thousand deadly shards. He wonders if his luck will run out. Has his luck run out already?
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Please know that the random commas are intentionally and for effect. They are not the result of bad grammar.