Existence
With dawn comes the birth of a new day. A day can hold such prospect, so many possibilities yet mankind is content to wait until tomorrow to grasp them. It's always tomorrow. I find it rather pitiful that they waste the precious time they are given on frivolous society and fulfilling the expectations of others.
Life is a game really. If you play your cards correctly it can be exceptionally rewarding. If you are cautious, you may make it through the game and come out none the worse. It is a fierce competition to come out on top. A player never makes his moves in the best interest of his foes. It's all a bloody war, life. I am more then happy enough to simply be an occasional spectator of this ridiculous sport.
You see, a normal life is reserved only for the simpletons meandering about above the surface. My...existence, is only in this place. What is it, to exist? If you are never seen by the rest of your race are you not real? If you died and no one knew or no one cared did you ever really exist in the first place? As I live each day in my own world I sometimes question my existence. Perhaps I am just a dream...no, not a dream. I am a nightmare. Yes, God must be having a nightmare and the nightmare is me. When he wakes, I will die. Can a nightmare die? I am convinced that I will have no grave and since I will have no grave, no roses will be laid upon the burial mound. No requiem mass. What a pity. Off all the corpses in the world I think that I crave a requiem of my own more than any. There will be no trace of me at all. The only fleeting evidence that I ever was will be God's occasional shudder of revulsion upon a momentary recollection of his horrible nightmare. The nightmare that was me.
But what if God doesn't dream? Then what am I? I can't truly comprehend my fixation with leaving my mark upon this world that doesn't want me. Life and existence are commonly mistaken for each other. To live is to breathe, to survive each day only to greet another. But to exist! To exist is to love and be loved. Existence is solely rejuvenated through a touch, a look, or a kind word. Without love, we never really exist at all. A day can come and go down here as quickly as a puff of breath in the winter chill. I'll live and die here, of that I am certain. I will be the only man on earth to live and die without truly being. It's a title I wish I could pass on, but there are no runners up. They will tell stories when I'm gone, "And God created women so that man would never be lonely and Adam, like all men thereafter, finally truly existed...all men except for Erik. He never existed."
I suppose if I never did then there won't be stories....will there?
End
A/N- My first submission here! This was done in some momentary swell of pity for Erik. He probably did question himself like this. Rather sad really. Never be any stories he says ... Wouldn't he be surprised? Any reviews or comment would be appreciated! I haven't really written for myself (outside of school) before.