Of Stars And Man

I don’t belong. Not anymore. After my parents death I decided it was useless to talk myself into believing such nonsense. Now, more than never, it has become clear.
Magic has faded, and every last hope of it was left at their graves. I cried when I began to understand what that means. I find no hope anymore in this world. Sad songs don’t touch the sadness in me, and laughter is ignored when it knocks on the door to my heart. Anger is so much easier to handle, it keeps me alive, it feeds me.

I saw a wanted poster of me a few days back. It said I was a rouge killer and a psychopath. It said I threatened the peace of the country. It said I was to be brought to the king, dead or alive.
Words have never affected me so much as those. It still sends shivers down my spine when I think about it. I’m nothing more than a man that has lost his job, why should someone so unimportant like me be killed?
I asked myself that question more than once. But it doesn’t help. There is no one to answer except the stars, but then again, they haven’t spoken to me since my parents death. See, I told you, I lost hope. How am I supposed to live, if all my reasons to continue have vanished?

I’m living off trashcans and whatever food I find on the roads. After getting ill from trying Pig fodder I made sure to eat small amounts of disgusting things, thus getting used to them slowly.
My robes are torn, I don’t think anyone still recognizes me. But when people look at me I can feel the piercing glares of the guards as they chased me away the first time.
My existence is a mere myth. I am a living legend. No one believes that the beggar they kick and throw stones at is the one they hope will save them. That’s just stupid talk anyway. I can’t save anyone, I never could. All I can do now is steal to survive. I don’t want to, but if I want to live, I might as well throw away all the pride I had left.

If the stars won’t talk to me, then I'll just have to live in silence.