Why? She asked again like none of my words meant anything to her. Frustration started to take a hold of me, as more and more of my questions, my insecurities weren’t getting any satisfying answer. Because I don’t get it, I said as she surprised looks at me and leans back. I know that it shouldn’t matter, yet it matters. Because the way we live is rather dumb. We all know the same rules of wash your hands, when you yawn, you put your hand to your mouth. These weird fucking rules that came out of necessity. Yet, here we are. In a nebulous cloud without any real rules to follow, even murder is not really frowned upon in the right context. But as I writer there is one thing I don’t have. One thing I will never understand and it doesn’t satisfy me. Because either something has rules, or it doesn’t. Having your cake and eating it doesn’t cut it for me anymore. I want something more.

She looks at me with bewilderment as I light up and continue to rant. Art, my art, writing… What’s the point of all those rules only to break them? What’s the point of the internet? What’s the point of free access to information if we can’t use it properly? What’s the point of helping anyone if they don’t want the help, even if they are a danger to themselves and others? There isn’t any! What is your responsibility to do anything in this god forsaken world? None! Because you have the freedom to do so? But what good is freedom if you hurt someone? What good is freedom if you can’t take advantage of it? And put yourself in a cage then blame others? All this life is to me, all this life will ever mean to me is a joke. Because I can’t have what I want. Because either I write what I don’t want, but the audience wants, which they don’t know what they want. Or I write what I want, but the audience doesn’t, because even thought they don’t know what they want, they know that they don’t want what you are offering. Fuck!

She lights up another cigarette and looks at me smiling. How am I supposed to know who I am? What am I to do in this life? When most of them don’t. And you know what they do because they don’t? They stand in your way, because they can’t fucking fathom the balls on you as a human being to be happy, and to pursue something you want to fucking do in your life. And even when they don’t, change scares them. So, you scare them. Because you have good ideas, you have potential to make it big, kid. To change what needs to be changed in a broken system. But they won’t let you, because it’s the norm, and why change what works. But does it actually fucking work if you want to change it? Of course not. All I wanted was to be happy, with you, with my fiance, with anyone for that matter that would have given me the light of day. Yet I don’t have that luxury, because I can’t have you, I can’t have what I want. And I don’t know what I want, because no one does and even if I did, no one would actually give two shits to read what I wrote. And that’s the truth. Instead of doing what is right and necessary. Instead of actually changing something, we’re just moving along because change scares us, no matter how good it would have been afterwards. With big eyes, she looks at me and…

If you have the answer to any of these questions, please leave them in the comments below. Thank you for reading another chapter of I Write Sins… if you liked it, please like it, share it and if you want to support me please consider donating, helps keep these short stories free and without ads, at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO