Emptying a world...
The days go by, and by. Nothing is said, nothing is to be done. My world is dissovling into bleakness. Everything is so... gone. I have no friends. I have no companions. Hate fills my heart. Ugliness fills my brain. Nothing is real anymore. I am nothing. Am I really that lost? I'm no longer afraid. Afraid of what? Life. Life is to be afraid of, and I am no longer afraid... of life.
Sometimes I think what it wold be ike to burn, or to be in a situation where I can't do anything, but die. The only road. Is to die.
I feel ugly. I am ugly. Yet so beautiful at the same time. Why? I don't know. I have yet to find that answer in Destiny's Garden. I have yet to find myself. This is not. This is not me. I am not like this. Or am I? Is it because I can feel again? Where the pain seeps through my chest, and pounds on my heart. I close up. I can't do anything except watch.
Bored. Just bored. I have no life, and so it's boring. Again, I have no friends, and am left in the darkness. Things have come to be. Can I stop them? That is for the future, I think. Perhaps, and perhaps not. I am yet again, nothing. I feel nothing. Yet I feel pain. Is that something? What pain is this?
Pain of Loneliness.
That is my pain. That pain fills every inch of my body, and I have not figured out a way to prevent it. Why? I don't know. So many questions, and all paths lead to "why". Why this? Why that? Why do I?
I feel my control slipping away. My self control. It's going for a little trip, how long is for no one to know. Not even me. Little thoughts of evil sink into my mind, craving something beyond torture.
To scourge, simply means to whip.
I want to cry, but the tears won't come. I wish to cry, but they still do not come. They don't fall, they don't threaten to spill over. I feel that lump in my throat, that makes me think to cry, and yet, they still do not come. I have not cried for a while now. Perhaps it is normal.
My control is slipping. I'm going to hurt them. I can feel it. When ever I think of a tiny evil little thought, it spreads through out my body, and to my fingertips and it tingles my nerves, and gets me all excited. I don't like them, it makes me feel dirty. Dirty and vile. But I can't help dream of them. Think of what would happen if it did happen. What then? It strokes the fire in my belly, and I long to live it out. But I know that that is inhuman, and I cannot do such a thing.
They don't understand that I can just twist their little necks off. One slice to the throat and they're all dead. They just don't understand.
Sometimes I think what it wold be ike to burn, or to be in a situation where I can't do anything, but die. The only road. Is to die.
I feel ugly. I am ugly. Yet so beautiful at the same time. Why? I don't know. I have yet to find that answer in Destiny's Garden. I have yet to find myself. This is not. This is not me. I am not like this. Or am I? Is it because I can feel again? Where the pain seeps through my chest, and pounds on my heart. I close up. I can't do anything except watch.
Bored. Just bored. I have no life, and so it's boring. Again, I have no friends, and am left in the darkness. Things have come to be. Can I stop them? That is for the future, I think. Perhaps, and perhaps not. I am yet again, nothing. I feel nothing. Yet I feel pain. Is that something? What pain is this?
Pain of Loneliness.
That is my pain. That pain fills every inch of my body, and I have not figured out a way to prevent it. Why? I don't know. So many questions, and all paths lead to "why". Why this? Why that? Why do I?
I feel my control slipping away. My self control. It's going for a little trip, how long is for no one to know. Not even me. Little thoughts of evil sink into my mind, craving something beyond torture.
To scourge, simply means to whip.
I want to cry, but the tears won't come. I wish to cry, but they still do not come. They don't fall, they don't threaten to spill over. I feel that lump in my throat, that makes me think to cry, and yet, they still do not come. I have not cried for a while now. Perhaps it is normal.
My control is slipping. I'm going to hurt them. I can feel it. When ever I think of a tiny evil little thought, it spreads through out my body, and to my fingertips and it tingles my nerves, and gets me all excited. I don't like them, it makes me feel dirty. Dirty and vile. But I can't help dream of them. Think of what would happen if it did happen. What then? It strokes the fire in my belly, and I long to live it out. But I know that that is inhuman, and I cannot do such a thing.
They don't understand that I can just twist their little necks off. One slice to the throat and they're all dead. They just don't understand.