Lost Thoughts of a Lost Man (Re-posted)

So, this is what life looks like. Murky. Convoluted. Sometimes, unappealing. I feel more like a by-stander, an observer indifferent to the constant trivialities of the on-goings in the world. I walk around, zombie-like, sneering at the mundane pre-occupations of the human race. They glorify themselves. They put utterly senseless things as their gods - money, career, pride. I feel deceived. Nobody told me that breathing has its own lethal side-effects. I thought my skin is a supple pillow for another person. Apparently, it is supposed to be a wall that defines where I end and where the rest of the world begins. Outside me. Beyond me. Before being born, I was constantly dreaming - of beautiful orange-painted grasslands and turquoise skylines. I opened my eyes and reality slaps me. Not contented, life itself spat on my face. And then left me to rot, near-dead, almost. Still, I collected myself and dusted off the dirt. I walked and walked and walked, without any destination. In fact, without a clue of where how or when or why. I was just walking. I persisted because a tiny part of me was hoping. Dreaming that perhaps if only I keep treading this path, I would bump into a stranger called Purpose. I imagine the wonderful, amazing, supernova-like burst of joy I would feel once I hold Purpose's hand. Only then, the walking will make sense. But, days became years and though I walked a hundred miles, nothing came. I saw drifters instead. Temporal creatures, cynical and cunning. I remained naïve. Every single time, I would offer help. Every single time, I would regret. Not entirely, but I would, regret. Oh the humanity and the bleak future that is yet to come. I would sigh at every corner. I did not sign up for this. I did not sign up for a life only to die. I did not sign up for love only to cry. I did not sign up for the swinging pendulum called life. I would curse Life when I get to meet her. She thinks she can blow essence to a piece of mud and then call it Man? What makes a Man? Breathing? This hollow thing, this body, is so limited, so useless, so fragile. If life is constrained in this and if I can only experience life through this delicate body, then I am fucked. For I will experience life only in tangent. But, I walked and I walked and I walked. Nobody came. Everybody left. And worse, nobody told me life is this lonely.