Melancholy

Some people live.
Other people fade through life like paper that blows on a city wind- invisible to those who have seen thousands like you before. They think they’re special.
They think they’re unique.
They think that, because they have their family, friends, pasts, memories, emotions, that that makes them automatically worth living. They look at life as something that was handed to them on a plate- they made no effort to earn it, and yet they know nothing beyond life. Things might have changed, different schools or jobs or homes, different loves, friends, but the essential base of life had always been the same.
Nothing had compromised it.
Nothing had threatened it.
So therefore naturally nothing can take it away if it hasn’t before. Does this make someone original? Even those who yearn to be different aren’t. They cut their hair into different styles, different colours, they wear what makes them ‘stand out.’ They force themselves to think and act differently, to listen to different music, to talk to other different people. But really, they’re just the same as those who sit and watch life go by, despite their frustrated clutching at what they think they deserve for simply being. Life isn’t exclusively for people. People think they will get the most out of life- take a huge bite of it, and that the entire existence of the planet will change obviously because they had walked upon it, but that’s a lie that people feed themselves. A person can live and die and a few people will care, get over it, and then they’re dead and the cycle begins again.
Is that living?