How many times is needed for a mistake to be made so one can finally learn something from it? How many times does a sinner need to sin until they start looking for redemption? How many times one needs to look in the mirror to finally see themselves? There is no such thing as an end to misery for the misery can be found in the smallest of things and the most insignificant times, regardless it is still there. An endless circle only to be again lived in a different way. It is the saying that nothing lasts forever. It is both the good and the bad news. It is always that moment alone at night, with an empty bottle right next and an already smoked pack next to the overfilled ashtray that gets you thinking about the moment it all started to crumble.
Just like a building… It is not only one part that goes in vain, that is just the beginning of a ruin. In time, it all turns back to dust… leaving just a memory for the ghosts of the days gone by. No matter how much one wishes to turn back the time, all the whiskey one drowns in, all the smokes one suffocates on, all the drugs one still feels upon can’t turn the clock around to what got them there in the first place. “What a shame to judge a life that you can’t change.” One song to remember it all. Another one to relive it all. All next to the same comfort one only knows for an eternity now. Always living in the same fantasy that maybe one day it will change. That the tables will have turned around for them. Never it will be the case. Or the opportunity. Once the action is done, the reaction will linger forever. The effects never to be changed. And what is the most bothering, is that… It never happens for the smallest of things, but for the ones that will eat the soul forever.
The reason you are this very person in this very moment, it all started with one simple gesture. One small action to set out a domino. One doesn’t necessarily needs to go to Hell to be punished, they can go suffer in the Purgatory or worse, their punishment… to roam the Earth without having a moment of silence, of rest, until the end of times. They don’t have a God and the Devil won’t take them, for they tricked the nature. A sin greater that killing yours alike. To try to change the very structure of the setting. A wanderer, a soul never to find home. Abused by their own mind with the same torment they inflicted on others, even without trying.
Used by the body for the filthiest actions only to find no escape, not even in the end. They know it. After they have seen the snake that eats their tail never-ending, they acknowledged it.
The soul is used and abused by the very things that allow it to exist.