A Penniless Existence

It’s a cold night and an old man slowly ponders about his hopes and dreams that seem to disappear along with the warmth that once filled his body. The twisted streets of Berlin come crawling up his spine and into his consciousness, as he suspects every creature daring to pass his way. The old man had once owned these streets, and frowned upon those that would make them filthy. People that were what he now is. He feels like a fool searching for social acceptance amongst rats and rags, hiding in fear of people recognizing him, and seeing him for what he really is. Poor.

He had always taken pleasure in the thought of being wealthy, and when the wave of money first came his way, he was not going to let it bypass. He had an acquaintance that introduced him to the stock market, and the stock market seemed to be on his side.
He felt that it finally was his time to shine. After several years of dreadful education, he still lived by the thought that ambition bites the nails of success. He managed to grasp on to this wealth for several decades. He had received what he had always wanted. Wealth.

Now, the reason he then admired the rich, was their will for getting their way, in what seemed to be subtle methods. Yet, when he was in such a position himself, he knew that they had kidnapped the truth, trying to negotiate. That their surreptitious behavior was mildly inspiring. Even though he now was one of the people he once had admired, he could not help but despise himself. He had had enough, and decided to retreat back to the farm he grew up on, living a peaceful life amongst the meadows that were soiled with freedom, and bliss. That was not to happen.

He settled on giving away all his money to charity, mostly to the research of cancer as his mother had passed away because of such a diseased growth. He thought this would help his guilt and guide him in the way of happiness. However, he failed to remember his past experiences, and his past learnings, about humans and their capability to accept charity, and, quite frankly care for more than the five minutes of fame one is handed. The money was donated and he travelled to the farm, with a small amount of money to buy his childhood dream. But it ceased to exist, as it had been replaced with a factory.

Depression grows as ivy, wrapping itself around his soul, as he begs for a way back into the stock market, yet people have forgotten his kind gesture, and he has nowhere to go. He is sick, he thinks it’s the poisoned air filling his lungs, but he is mistaken. And when darkness falls upon the city, testosterone boys and harlequin girls fill the night with roars of animals, as he hides in his lonely corner fearing the beasts of the night. He fears the unknown, yet he is even more terrified of the known. He is destroyed inside, mentally and physically.

He wanders himself into a public hospital where he says he is sick. And a nurse, who treats him with the respect he has been missing for all those lonely years, greets him. He feels overwhelmed as she places him in a wheel chair and tells him in a soft angel like voice that they are going to run some tests, and see if they can’t find out what’s wrong with him.
He is put through several machines, as worried expressions seem to take form on doctor’s faces. The kind nurse rolls the wheelchair in to a room.
- You will be staying here for a few days whilst we wait for the test results. But the old man could read her face like an open book. She already knew the diagnosis, she just needed the days to build up the courage to tell him.
- There is no use holding back, my dear, he said.
- I am old, don’t fear giving me bad news, I know my time is soon to come. She sighed, and gave the awfully recognizable pitiful smile, as she told him he had cancer.
He smiled and merely told her to start the cure! She hesitated before telling him that;
- Insurance is needed, and I’m afraid yours isn’t in tact anymore..

The irony seems to warm him from the inside as he starts laughing. He begins to feel that there was no way to win in this world, that maybe leaving wouldn’t be so bad.

He came to a decision where he was going to live the rest of his days like he always wanted to. Not as a vagabond, which he had been living like for the past ten years, and not as a well-off man. He isn’t going to be a part of the world any more. He is simply observe the earth from an objective point of view, and see what he never saw.
The very next morning he wakes up to see the sunrise in a majestic mixture of bright pink to and a golden shade. The morning dew has just set on the cobberstonepavement. The cold wind is painful, yet he isn’t complaining, just observing. His breaths start to become harder to draw, and his eyelids are slowly collapsing. And as his soul disappears from his eyes, there is a faint sound of a young boy dropping his coin on the ground.

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