a resolution of sorts

the apparent ease with which he had slid through his life seemed to have turned into a monotonous existence where the lack of difficulties was no longer enough to compensate for the loss of thrill. for a while now it had felt that this absence of any kind of friction only made him more agitated; that the lukewarm reality that was served to him if not on a silver platter at least on one made of very fine porcelain managed to only increase his hunger instead of satisfying it. this failure drove him to seek out the drama he so needed from places and events that otherwise would have not held it, leaving many things broken behind him as he did.  in his quest for reaction and real emotion he misbehaved, tore out things that should have been left in peace and acted out in a way that only pushed him deeper into his own folly; and he could not for the life of him understand why nothing seemed to be enough to scratch the itch inside that was driving him mad.

the destructiveness he now applied to everything he did increased with a pace that seemed exponential. it mattered very little what the people once near and dear to him said; he was, after all, in charge of the situation, merely trying to find a fix for the bleakness of what was his life. how could they ever understand? how could they relate to the agony he felt the moment he woke up, see the unanswered need that torched his insides as he tried to close his eyes and go to sleep in the evening? they couldn't, no one could; and he ignored their pleas and looked the other way when they stared at him with helplessness in their eyes.

and so, after numerous fruitless efforts they finally stopped asking; and by the time there was nobody left to even ask it didn't matter to him anymore. only thing that did was the seek for a rush, something that would have felt real; but it never came, and somewhere along the road it started to slip his mind what he was looking for. and as the days extended into weeks and months and years he was pulled further and further away from what he used to be; and as he one day finally forgot what the whole thing was all about, he couldn't have found his way back anymore even if he would have found what he had been looking for.