Overphilosophisingly tired of existence
Such was life. And they lived happily, unfulfillingly, joyfully, a bit intellectually perhaps, but definitely unknowingly. Then it all began. It all began all of a sudden. Not that none of them realised it coming, but they really did not realise what it was that was coming. In fact, the beginning was the end as well. So by modus ponens, it ended all of a sudden.
Such was life. Nobody cared for others, nobody cared for herself, nobody saw any reason to give a damn about anything whatsoever. But they lived. They lived quite naturally, except that they had religion or they overphilosophised, which are indeed unnatural. They lived naturally, I must admit. They were a bit too real perhaps. They were a bit too unaware. But they did see it coming, this odd feeling. Some of them, well actually most of them, were able to ignore it properly. Some of them overignored it. But not all of them were as prepared as others. Underestimating the somewhat devastating consequences, some of them realised the feeling coming. The feeling realised itself in those few. And those few realised the feeling. They were worse off. They lost what had been found until then. They lost what was to be kept safe. They were not heedless enough. In a sense, they were not real enough.
Such was life. Such was the beginning of everything. Such was the odd feeling. It was not at all philosophical. Nor was it psychoanalytical. It was just a simple night. It was just a simple thought. They were just regular people. They painfully and unwillingly realised the feeling. They were lonely. They were on the right side, that is, where no one else was. They imagined; they thought; this was their mistake. I'm not blaming them for that, but it was clearly just a simple night and just a simple thought. They could have slept it over. They could have watched television. They didn't. They saw life plainly. It was not all that wonderful. It was not all that meaningful.
So they made an agreement. They undid everything they have done. They unthought everything they thought. They made an agreement. They ended themselves; in an appropriate manner so that no one understood. But they were not as dead as dead people. Though they were not as alive as living beings. Every now and then, some of the real people asked them questions on life, on philosophy, on nature, and on happiness. They did answer them. They did make explanations. They did try to make their best in existence. They tried to exist properly. They tried to exist naturally.
But certain things simply don't work. Their existence was vague, their life unbelievably blurred. At least for some time..
Today, their agreement seems to have expired. They derealised themselves. They ignored whatever approaches. They learned the basics. And they lived happily, unfulfillingly, joyfully, a bit intellectually perhaps, but definitely unknowingly. Such was life.