Losing My Faith: A “Pessimistic Prose”

Austin Brown

It may be hard to believe but

I wasn’t always this sad.

A used to be

wanna be saint like me

didn’t want to believe that things were so bad but

it didn’t take too long for me to lose faith.

Because when I really looked at it,

since the very first day I could breathe, I’ve been coughing up feelings of

rage and regret over

pain and rejection that seems

to teem in the bleakness of everyday life.


Since the very first day I could see, I’ve been blinded

by families of optimists struggling to keep themselves from finding out

that bad things actually do happen.

Since the very first day I could read, the newspaper’s been feeding me fake news

and scary stories

about a nation ashamed of my generation

where they shoot people my age

in the face every day

before we come of age

and then look amazed

when we can’t stop the bleeding.

It’s really amazing how

even though they’ve explained how

over and over again

all the books that they’ve written

on lessons they’ve hidden

in lectures they’ve given

stopped making sense a long time ago.



books are always talking so much about so little

because It’s foolish to think you could ever get by

with google teaching you so little about so much, right?

Over the years we’ve perpetually chosen

to live in our woes.

We get older but apparently

don’t know any more than we ever did before.

I mean…

We keep giving the freedom of speech to

the same animals who

saw a muse and an expensive pair of shoes

and then confused the two while

expecting them to execute it through this insanely huge responsibility of political correctness.

But political correctness

doesn’t feel like real correctness.

This correctness doesn’t connect us correctly

like we think it would or it could

‘cause we always think what’s different from us


be another wrong way to think,

to feel,

another wrong way to be,

so we just stay separated.

It even seems to me,

I mean it really feels to me

like I’m being





and marginalized

by the very same people idolizing me

for some reason

claiming to be fighting

for my right to have freedom

when nobody was actually free in the first place

I mean…

At this moment in time, to me,

the meaning of life

comes from how big of a bite

we can take with a life in a world

we have so little control over.

The drive for success is nothing more

than to mindlessly work to make comfort the norm

so with success shines the trite of our everyday lives

we have so little control over.

We have so little control over

how strange we all seem to the world,

but none of us are really that strange at all

are we?

We’re all just different versions of the typical person.



Searching for purpose in a life that seems worthless.

The pain is all worth it because

I always need to bleed a little

to remember I can feel a little

just until I realize I’ve been feeling a little

too much lately.

So when today’s madness brings sadness

I remember that it’s only to remind me

of the happiness I had yesterday.

Then being sad doesn’t hurt so badly today.