Forever empty.
You move with your dreams, although, they lack limits. I've never had the power to control what I wish for, I just keep asking and never recieve, for I never give, as usual. Written in my self a nightmare of endless words, bitterness that won't heal and hurts my tongue and soul. My mind is not as strong as I thought it was and it's getting harder to hide the pain of my loneliness. Yet, it should be my main priority to hold my words of pain and desperation...I have my own will, I'm not an animal...
Making a note on my absence of control, I commit the crime of letting out every single obscene and degrading feeling that comes to my poor mind. I express with repulsive sincerity all evil that provokes that toxic cloud in which, as seen, I'm proud of swimming in. Believe me, friends, I haven't found the reason why I like intoxicating myself like that. Neither fits in my logic why is it that everybody can handle their depression, and I can't.
Why can everybody hold their depression and I can't?, Am I pain's only companion? It's not something to boast, far from that, it's the reason of my shame and itself leads to more pain, and everything begins to to around without stopping until, maybe, death.
Nothing and no one to hold me, freedom of expression is a torture. To talk and never be listened to. To cry knowing no one will wipe out my tears. To regret when you know you have all what you need and can't appraise it because the shadow of guilt hunts your soul. That guilt, for God sake, is unexplainable...and inevitable. The circle that turns infinitely, pain leads to cause and cause leads to more pain. As I can't hide my melancholy, I express it, they listen, and they can't answer me, then I run away from everything and everyone, just to drown myself in desperation, that after a while I show off too...and the circle repeats itself again.
There's no solution, condemned to be alone. Condemned to tout for a soul that understands me, that caresses me before I ask for it, that talks to me before I call it. That knows to think before I say it, that is one step ahead of my actions, and then, able to hold me before I fall into the abyss.
But there is no such soul. Like I said, dreams never stop being utopian and lack limits.
Maybe death. Too many empty spaces in my soul to fill them up with will's dreams. It's correct to end my life before I keep hurting my beloved ones. It's fair that I stop regretting and put and end to all this, scratching the scar won't help, it is better to stab the holy knife in my wrists and let it flow. It's more convenient to jump from up high so that the wind in my ears makes me deaf to all hypocrite comments that only pretend to keep me alive locked in a cage for their own satisfaction. Many of them wish I wouldn't take this decision, but they don't care for my sake, they care for their own.
Is there a cost for breaking my soul? Yes, the health of those who truly care about me. If I'm to name a reason why I haven't jumped is because of those who supposedly love me. Can't there be a way to ask for something else? There is.
I wish with all my heart to lose my sense of reason, lose my judgment and feelings. Make me a plant, a robot. That only I could breathe, move, and obey orders. I would do only what other asked me to, whatever it were, just to satisfy them and make them happy, as they deserve. I wish I was empty, a mere sexual toy. Without feelings nor depressions so that I won't have the need to express them and avoid hurting anybody. To do only what I'm useful for.
No exit, after all that's been said, there's nothing more that the damn dreams.
Today I dreamed I died, and it was beautiful. Why not? Enough of those hypocrite applauses, enough of those comments of help that aren't what I'm looking for. No one can answer me, not you, nor me.
I wish I was dead and today I'm going to do it.
//Strange Are The Ways Of The Wolfhearted...
You move with your dreams, although, they lack limits. I've never had the power to control what I wish for, I just keep asking and never recieve, for I never give, as usual. Written in my self a nightmare of endless words, bitterness that won't heal and hurts my tongue and soul. My mind is not as strong as I thought it was and it's getting harder to hide the pain of my loneliness. Yet, it should be my main priority to hold my words of pain and desperation...I have my own will, I'm not an animal...
Making a note on my absence of control, I commit the crime of letting out every single obscene and degrading feeling that comes to my poor mind. I express with repulsive sincerity all evil that provokes that toxic cloud in which, as seen, I'm proud of swimming in. Believe me, friends, I haven't found the reason why I like intoxicating myself like that. Neither fits in my logic why is it that everybody can handle their depression, and I can't.
Why can everybody hold their depression and I can't?, Am I pain's only companion? It's not something to boast, far from that, it's the reason of my shame and itself leads to more pain, and everything begins to to around without stopping until, maybe, death.
Nothing and no one to hold me, freedom of expression is a torture. To talk and never be listened to. To cry knowing no one will wipe out my tears. To regret when you know you have all what you need and can't appraise it because the shadow of guilt hunts your soul. That guilt, for God sake, is unexplainable...and inevitable. The circle that turns infinitely, pain leads to cause and cause leads to more pain. As I can't hide my melancholy, I express it, they listen, and they can't answer me, then I run away from everything and everyone, just to drown myself in desperation, that after a while I show off too...and the circle repeats itself again.
There's no solution, condemned to be alone. Condemned to tout for a soul that understands me, that caresses me before I ask for it, that talks to me before I call it. That knows to think before I say it, that is one step ahead of my actions, and then, able to hold me before I fall into the abyss.
But there is no such soul. Like I said, dreams never stop being utopian and lack limits.
Maybe death. Too many empty spaces in my soul to fill them up with will's dreams. It's correct to end my life before I keep hurting my beloved ones. It's fair that I stop regretting and put and end to all this, scratching the scar won't help, it is better to stab the holy knife in my wrists and let it flow. It's more convenient to jump from up high so that the wind in my ears makes me deaf to all hypocrite comments that only pretend to keep me alive locked in a cage for their own satisfaction. Many of them wish I wouldn't take this decision, but they don't care for my sake, they care for their own.
Is there a cost for breaking my soul? Yes, the health of those who truly care about me. If I'm to name a reason why I haven't jumped is because of those who supposedly love me. Can't there be a way to ask for something else? There is.
I wish with all my heart to lose my sense of reason, lose my judgment and feelings. Make me a plant, a robot. That only I could breathe, move, and obey orders. I would do only what other asked me to, whatever it were, just to satisfy them and make them happy, as they deserve. I wish I was empty, a mere sexual toy. Without feelings nor depressions so that I won't have the need to express them and avoid hurting anybody. To do only what I'm useful for.
No exit, after all that's been said, there's nothing more that the damn dreams.
Today I dreamed I died, and it was beautiful. Why not? Enough of those hypocrite applauses, enough of those comments of help that aren't what I'm looking for. No one can answer me, not you, nor me.
I wish I was dead and today I'm going to do it.
//Strange Are The Ways Of The Wolfhearted...
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