The Old Man Walking on the Beach

Inspired by a notebook I have with an old man walking alone on a beach.

I’m an old man walking alone on an isolated beach feeling rather down. I tend to know how to please myself, but today I am desperate for the world to bring a smile to my dead face.

As I walk, I hear as the seagulls cry for someone or something to help in their hunger. As I walk, I ask myself, why can’t someone like me enjoy this horrible world we live in? Is it because my soul is rotting? Or maybe I’m just a clueless old man whose roof is the sky and whose home is an isolated beach?

Why must it be that the one time another life enters my home, it happens to be someone with pretenses? Why must it be that my desperate love for that woman has made me stuck here, looking for pleasure in the music of the annoying seagulls?

And now that she has left me alone to drown in the rising tides, I cry. No, my soul cries. It cries for days. It cries for nights. Endlessly. I think about the horror I live in, and my heart quivers, once again.

Losing all of my self-control tears fall down my cheeks and knowing that this torture will be endless I call out to the sky and say, “My love, I hate you. You have distanced yourself from me, making me desperate. I love you so much I want to hate you.”

And with that confession, the mage who cursed me appeared before me and said, “I don’t love you,” leaving me in my restless state forevermore.