What is life? What is the meaning of life? Well, damn! — did he ever say he was a philosopher? There’s not a single ‘Sho Minamimoto’ in that set. It’s an axiom that he’s DEAD, zero pulse, and there isn’t a single substitution for that value.
Those memories don’t make his heart beat, barely even makes him drop his eyelids at 30 degrees. He’s an outsider looking in at his own head, and life? — Life use to mean a lot to him.
Life was 10:00 pm where he clicked the lights close so only the backroom was lit. His pops has two bowls out, rising steam from the fresh ramen touching the dingy lights, clouding the bulb. So maybe they blew all their money in making the storefront appealing, so what, it worked. Life was the way his dad probably didn’t know what the hell he was saying ½ the time, but grinned anyways, good job son — and Sho Minamimoto deals with calculations, he doesn’t blush at parental praise, so if he feels warm in his chest, maybe it’s a damn miscalculation. ( Not that he has any of those. No way. )
Life was the grey in the clouds before the rain, and the blues in the skies at the break of downpour. It was the fractal rays filtering through the tree leaves, and the ripples in rivers.
He wants few things, likes even less. It doesn’t even hurt that Ken Doi doesn’t remember him after his entrance fee. It doesn’t matter that every color is a blur of monotony.
The only thing he sees value in now are calculations. They hold significance not because of sentiment, but because of facts. Life is an ugly thing, disgusting, it doesn’t matter if you’re in the x-plane or y, and the only that that makes sense are the numbers in his brain, so that’s the only thing worth calling beautiful.
dededos
snowghoul
kaledo-art
pixelskylines
baratheonpilled
yousharknotpass
