(no subject)
i believe that everything is possible, everything. but i don't want to think of all those evil things. aggression, violence and despair, everything.
it's just that i should believe. and i don't. i could fly if i believed. and i could do everything. but i can't, because every one of them has told me it's impossible and it's hard to ignore their words. they just seem to leave those marks in me, something i don't want to admit. something i seem to deny because i don't know what i could do.
when i was a child, i used to fly with an umbrella. it was dark blue, and when it was very windy, i kept it in my hand and ran for a moment and then suddenly, i couldn't feel the ground anymore. but when i got older i accidentally broke it, and threw it away.
and i never felt pretentious when i was a child. i must be missing something, those fragments of being a child, they used to bring memories to mind, but now they're just making me to cling to something.
aggression, violence, despair. it's hard to deny something you know, and you can't believe something you can't feel anymore. but still, somehow, everything could be possible. and only way to write this is this way how i wrote, and for some reason, it makes me feel so pretentious, these words make me sick. and, this must be full of spelling mistakes. i don't know. i'm making myself sick today.
it's just that i should believe. and i don't. i could fly if i believed. and i could do everything. but i can't, because every one of them has told me it's impossible and it's hard to ignore their words. they just seem to leave those marks in me, something i don't want to admit. something i seem to deny because i don't know what i could do.
when i was a child, i used to fly with an umbrella. it was dark blue, and when it was very windy, i kept it in my hand and ran for a moment and then suddenly, i couldn't feel the ground anymore. but when i got older i accidentally broke it, and threw it away.
and i never felt pretentious when i was a child. i must be missing something, those fragments of being a child, they used to bring memories to mind, but now they're just making me to cling to something.
aggression, violence, despair. it's hard to deny something you know, and you can't believe something you can't feel anymore. but still, somehow, everything could be possible. and only way to write this is this way how i wrote, and for some reason, it makes me feel so pretentious, these words make me sick. and, this must be full of spelling mistakes. i don't know. i'm making myself sick today.