Contemplating whether I should type up my short story and upload it, or re-read and tweak. I sure have read it enough times... Almost to cite it word for word. Sigh, things you do for perfection is absolutely quixotic.
Am I ready to venture into the unknown once again?
Experience almost every emotion just within a few months.
Thee who pulled my coeur and left it to lay, motionless.
It's still so clear,
the day it all came down.
Was I really the villian?
Trying to cover your own lies.
They very much underestimated.
Hopefully times will come.
although beings are present.
Feeling completely diverse from them.
But I wonder,
Is it me who is different?
Or perhaps, it is all those many people.
We all aspire our own indviduality, our own traits. Fluidity. Not normality. When does it exist? Beyond this grey world into another matter?
I am not normal.
We are not normal.
Releasing my emotion the only way it feels right.
Good? No, but it helps me feel alive.
The constant breathing.
The beating of my heart.
Just isn't enough.
I require to see something concrete.
Just for a while.
The pain reassuring me.
I haven't lost my mind.
Is there a way out of this mad cycle?