Why do I bother...?

Why do I try...?

I try to state my feelings as eloquently as possible,
But their meaning is lost in a torrent of confusion.

We seem to live in different realms, a paradigm apart;
Venturing from one to the other impossible.

It's lonely in this realm.
I can sense the others across the chasm. I can see, hear, smell and touch them even.
But I can't communicate with them; nothing meaningful, anyway.
I try to invite them over, but the vicious wind picks up my words and jumbles them around like a strange mnemonic.
A laugh is turned into a bitter growl.
A content sigh into a breath of frustration.

Am I really that evil?
Is the wind really a tool to carry my words and deliver them in their true form? In their true meaning?
Could I consciously proclaim myself the Devil and sleep fitfully at night knowing I am the spawn of all sin? I hope not...

But hope and the facts of reality are too separated by rifts of unpassable nothingness.

The helpless grabs from the cliff of the Real World across the ocean of darkness provide our only salvation in the den of despair, however minute. The salvation in the knowledge that at least I tried my best to reach greater shores.
At least I tried...

But are my efforts good enough for them?
Do I inspire them to wander into my world and say 'hello'?

The Wind must invert my actions also.
It creates a concave lens with its focal point in their realm, my world to them is shown to be in a chaotic like state.
My most simple actions repulse them; they cringe in my wake.
Even the one that I want I seem to push away. I put all my passions and longing and affection into my thoughts for them.
I shudder to think how my feelings would appear in reverse.
I win no friends from their realm either.
My pleasant feelings and happy demeanour are met with harsh looks and even harsher words.
Why does the Wind abuse me so?

What of my appearance, then? Do the elements abuse its form too?
Do I have red horns and pointy ears?
And do I have a tail protruding from my back? Whipping around this way and that?
I imagine I have a ghastly shadow too, following my trail; Committing terrible acts to innocent standers by...

The Wind is the bane of my existence.

Then I begin to wonder, "Should I travel to the other side? Would that solve my problems?"
Once there, there would be no Wind. Nothing to torment me and disfigure my being.

I creep to the edge of Reality and stare for an eternity. I wonder what the others must think of my trembling body, standing forever perched on oblivion...

I reach out a foot but pause.. Is this the answer? Do I forgo my existence to all just because I am lonely? Do I have the arrogance to believe I have the right to make that decision?

My foot continues to waver over the edge...
I refuse to be responsible for the death of everything. I have no wish nor responsibility for it.

Selflessly I ease my foot back in. I stare across the plain again at my friends...
My friends...

They mightn't know it, but they are. They may distrust and dislike me, but they are.

I lay back onto the hard ground, contemplating the thought that I'd rather be alone than crumble their existence.

There is no thankyou...

There is no reward...

There is just me... alone in my reality...