Obsessing Over Nothing

You're born a nothing.

You look around you and decide you’re meant for greater things.

You don’t see a clear path there. So you take risks.

You take all the roads least travelled.

You see all the people with normal lifes and you decide “Fuck that, that will never be me.”

You decide it looks miserable and declare “I would rather die standing than live on my knees.”

You push.

You push.

You push.

All night. All day.

All night. All day.

You push.

You grind.

You’re obsessed.

You can’t think of anything else.

You can’t relent.

Not even for a moment.

You relent and it all falls down.

You push. You grind. You grind. You push.

You’ve come too far.

You’ve worked too hard and sunk too much into it to let that happen.

You push. You push. You push.

You get some success.

You buy things you’ve dreamed of having since you were a kid.

You don’t enjoy them.

You want more now.

You push more.

You get more success.

You get more of the things you thought you wanted.

You still don’t feel anything about it.

You keep pushing, but now you question why.

You don’t know what it’s for.

Nothing ever satisfies.

Nothing ever fills the hole inside you.

You know this.

You try goodness.

You help the innocent.

You buy children comforts and school supplies.

You’re happy to help, but you still don’t feel like you hoped you would.

You still have a hole inside you.

You try with all your might to fill it with all you can.

You start pushing more.

You begin to thrive on how far you can take things.

At least there’s a small rush in that.

You bribe.

You make backhander deals.

You make arrangements with dangerous and unreliable characters.

You play the game.

You help them get power purely to grow your own power and wealth.

By all measures, by all metrics, you’re not a nothing any more.

You’re a player, a visionary, a world builder. You’re a something.

You still feel nothing.

You see a normal man with a normal life.

With a normal family.

He looks happy.

And you think, “Fuck, I wish that were me.”

You only have one throne and it’s made of porcelain.

You have become something, but you wonder why you even bothered, when it still seems to have all been for nothing.