I’m so evil. I gave a man an opportunity to make a living for himself, Then took it away, Because all he ever thought of was himself.

I stepped down so he could rise, But his ego? It had me mad, had me all messed up inside.

I’m so evil. I truly wanted him to succeed, But he forgot the rule— Never bite the hand that feeds.

It was never about the money, But his switch-up? Man, that was funny.

That’s life’s lesson: Do good to those who do good to you. If you don’t, Life won’t choose to be good to you.

I gave a man the chance to thrive, Then took it away— Because all he thought about was himself.

Stranded in the desolate remains of human destruction, I walk alone - perhaps the last soul left behind. My only task now is to scavenge, to find some resources to survive. It’s a bleak and lonely conquest, but today, something unusual catches my eye.

Before me swirls a cloud of deep, purple mist, like a playful fog laced with stardust. Could it be some sort of sorcery? The kind of thing you only read about in fairytales? I step closer, the air tingling on my skin. I half-expect a whimsical fairy to emerge from the haze, announcing that the end of humanity was merely a cruel game of hide-and-seek.

But what I find is far stranger…

Nestled in the mist is a basket of beetroots—big, juicy, and glistening beetroots. Its deep purple skin stands out against the gray surroundings, and its earthy smell fills the air, rich and inviting. Fresh juice drips from it, promising a taste of life in this barren and dry land.

Attached to it is a note tied with string:

Congratulations, lone survivor. You have endured the consequences of humanity’s interference with life itself. Before you is a choice: Eat this beetroot to reignite life, or forsake your humanity for a realm of magic, where your soul will soar among the fairies.

I stare at the beetroot, my thirst aching for its sweetness. I consider the second option—a world of enchantment, free from the burdens of existence.

With trembling hands, I close the basket, leaving the beetroot behind. As I step into the mist, the warmth envelops me. The fairies appear, their laughter ringing like chimes in the wind. They emerge from the shadows—ugly little beings with thin, wispy hair, olive skin, and crooked teeth. Their bony bodies lift me into the sky, and I feel weightless but terrified of the heights.

In that moment, I realize I’ve chosen magic over the beetroot, but the thrill quickly turns to dread. They drop me, and my head crashes to the ground.

As I open my eyes again, the excitement of seeing the vibrant purple beetroot fades, replaced by the breathtaking sight of a galaxy awash in shades of purple, more vibrant than I could have ever imagined.

Exams. Graduate. College.

Oh shoot!

The alarm goes off— Your 8 a.m. class is in 10. Roll out of bed, Already fed. Rush, rush—here it begins.

But then— Another alarm. A new stage.

Oh shoot!

Your job starts now, Your appraisal’s in 10. Out of bed, Still fed. Rush, rush—it begins again.

Life moves forward, Chapters change. The alarm always rings— But you’re still waking up, Again and again.

Bed. Fed. Damn.

Time to be awake

The most frequent question I was asked as a child was: “What superpower would you want?” they’d ask with a smile. While some would choose flight, soaring high and carefree, I chose invincibility—

Invincibility.

The freedom to not be perceived, The freedom from being deceived, The freedom from needing to be believed

Places around the world to wonder, Moments to ponder, While memories grow fonder.

I chose invincibility because curiosity was my best friend, And even now, as the years extend— I would choose the same power once again, Invincibility.

There’s no responsibility, You’re no one’s responsibility.

You see the world, But the world? It doesn’t need to see you.

I’d choose Invincibility