“When I wrote the letter”

When I wrote the letter, I never thought that it would arrive. I never thought that anyone would ever read it.

It was written for me, none else.

But it ended up being written for so many more.

I remember as I came home and saw the first flyer showing the letter, none knew then that it was I who had written it, and I saw that people were hailing it as a true interpretation of life. And society as we know it.

I remember how people went insane trying to figure out what it meant. What the meaning behind it was.

And I remember how it felt when someone finally realized that it was I who had written it.

The first person came and told me that I was going to be rich. And the second one told me that he hated me.

I guess that’s something you have to take as a famous person.

The third person told me that I was created for something bigger than ”all of this” whatever that meant.

And the fourth person told me that I was nothing.

I didn’t care much what these people had to say.

I was still me. The same person who I was before I wrote that letter that was addressed to none.

I was the same person, but the world thought I was a prophet.

~~~
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Categories: flash fictionTags: , , , , , , , , , ,

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