"Say, what do you suppose would happen if everybody roaming our earth was a failure? Babies, kids, teens, adults, elderly. All of them, good people and bad people alike." He snickered
I wonder. Would the difference really be so catastrophic?
"Well, what would you classify as a failure? Me, I would say: 'somebody who has turned out fruitless in their dominant goal of life.' " I replied nonchalantly.
Somebody who has derived from their standard. Someone who, it goes without saying, failed themselves. It's really that simple, attaining your goal and turning out successful or failing your goal and turning out a failure; that's what separates them. But in all honesty is being a failure such a bad thing?
"Oh? You make it seem so unpretentious, haha! Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from you. You've always been straightforward. … maybe you just won't accept it.
Accept what? Constricted by that statement, I let out a sigh, got up and began to leave as the wind forced itself on me.
"How perfect, is it that you think of me as a failure?"
I didn't reply, instead I dozed off and wondered-this time facing the wind: In turn, how did he look at me?
A failure or a triumph, in essence why was this society so dependent on one or the other?
"... see you never".
It resonated. It inflated my eardrums.