The King of Fools

I am the King of Fools. I have been forgotten by all, and I live alone in my castle. My nights grow ever darker and the bedsheets lack the tracks of warm love. Every morning, I struggle to start the day, my mind boggled and heavy with thoughts that do no service to my sanity and peace. After the questionable victory that is getting out of bed, my steps mock my solitude with their echoes. On a table meant for company, I sit in silence and stare at my plate, never daring to look at the empty chairs. The noises I make while eating are fastidious at best, and at worst, they make me feel like an uncult barbarian who earned such a lonely existence.

I am the King of Fools. Walking under the sunlight has become a punishment, and I am unable to find joy in the world. The voices of the people bore me, for they do not offer anything of value. Their conversations I have heard before, their problems have already been solved by other people in another time. Looking at them irks me, and I feel like there is no person who could ever understand me. My daily routine is that, a routine; predictable and comfortable as it is, I hate it despite its practicality.

I am the King of Fools. After a long and unproductive day, I return to my castle. Today, nothing has been gained, except the means that allow me to repeat the same process over and over. As the world quiets down, I find solace in the death of activity. In the sunfall, my thoughts grow stronger and more demanding. Through the window, I can see them all, walking in groups or pairs, laughing and enjoying meaningless activities to justify their existence. I acknowledge that I want that, to be as ignorant and oblivious that life can be ignored. But my mind doesn’t want me to stop thinking, no. I have to observe them and learn, so that I can avoid such purposeless stupidity. Yet I suffer in my knowledge.

I am the King of Fools. In the dark of the night, the dark of my castle, I have lost my way. Life could have been so simple and bright, enjoyed by me. Perhaps I could have smiled more often, and bonds would have been created and developed. My chairs would not be empty. My bed would have two warm halves. My mind would not be sick. The moment I chose this existence has the main role in the theater of my soul, a play filled with tragedy and nothing else.

I am the King of Fools, for I have chosen safety over life, mind over heart and silence over love.