Ennui. XIV

He found himself staring directly into a dark pitch of black. He knew he was awake, knew he had his eyes open and yet did not see the white roof of his room. In a worrying fit, he flailed his arms around only to realize his hand had been covering his eyes the whole time.

He quickly remembered why his hands hung over his eyes. He looked at it and saw the imprints of tears embedded onto his skin like a tattoo. It served as a reminder of this morning.

He looked outside his window no longer finding his father in the yard using his sword. An empty yard with trees as its background. He could see the clouds of dirt and dust basking in the evening glow. He could see the trees swaying in the wind while the sturdier ones only had its leaves rustle.

So many things happening and yet, so insignificant, he realized. The tree can sway as violently as it wants and yet it does not change the fact that the Sun glows its yellow hue, nor does it mean the family stops eating. A swaying tree does not add anything to the world, nor takes it away.

He'd like to see himself as that tree. Both add nothing to this world. But at least he's his parents bundle of joy. At least. He hoped.