Purpose

In life most struggle to find their purpose. Everyone is put in the world for a reason, we just have to find it.

But after wandering and searching for more than a few hundred years, he was near giving up on trying. Alone. Isolated. He simply did not know why he was alive. He was no longer human. A fragment of a person maybe.

Pitch Black closed his eyes and rested wearily on the tree behind him. Standing at the edge of a cliff that overlooked a small town, he felt so insignificant in the midst of so many small bright lights, so lost in a world so foreign.

The stars in the night sky, winked at him as they shone and lit up the dark night. If possible that made him feel even more alone.

No one could see him. It was as if he didn't even exist.

Even the stars seemed to be mocking him with their bright existence.

To be recognized. That was all he wanted. The affirmation that he actually did exist.

The smoky clouds shifted a fraction and the luminous light of the moon enveloped him in it's entirety. Raising his eyes to the moon, he took a deep breath and yelled with all his might.

"WHY DID YOU PUT ME HERE FOR!?"

The moon remained silent. Taunting him almost, as it continued to glow and yet remained painfully silent.

"WHY?!!"

The years of frustration built up and exploded in a loud roar of anger. There was no point in watching his volume. No one could hear him anyway.

The silence was deafening.

Fists clenched, heart heavy with despair, he crumbled to the grassy ground.

Someone. Anyone. Just...

Prove to me that I exist.

"I am well suited for erasing, fading into hazy and sinking strong."