"I once dreamed a dream, but now that dream is gone for me. "
Whatever happened to my moral compass?
It once pointed the way north, seperating right from wrong.
That was then.
This is now.
The compass lies now in pieces scattered across a vast onyx floor.
I knew the difference once, I cared for that thin red line.
Cast adrift on a sea of blood
I desire to be the antithesis of all that is good and pure in this world.
I wish to hold purity in my palm, and crush it.
I wish to trample virtue underfoot, leaving a torn and broken tapestry behind.
I wish to blot out the sun, live my days in darkness, my nights by the light of a blood red moon.
I wish to be an avatar of pure rage, recklessness, and evil.
Oh how greatly I wish
It will not happen I know.
I do not have the stomach for such things.
Only a fool would continue to hope now, only a fool would make amends.
If that is my part to play, then so be it for I will not be the first.
He was loved, then cast down to die, only to strike back with a weapon such that none could escape it.
Grace.
But he and I are different.
Quite different.
But hate is baggage, life is too short to be pissed off all the time.
Just because he and I are different, does not mean I can not follow his example.
I will never be loved, if anything this is a clear reminder.
I wish I knew.
I don't understand.
Maybe someday, sometime, it will be made clear, what exactly is wrong with me.
Maybe I will never find out. But I now truly believe that I am destined to spend my life alone.
I quit. There can be no heartbreak, there can be no loss, there can be no game, if only one team plays.
I did everything... I was respectful, I had a genuine interest in her life.
I helped her through some of the hardest times of her life.
I thought that I carried the load. I tried to ... but maybe that is it. I tried, but maybe I failed.
But where was she. when i needed the person to talk to, the shoulder to cry on, was she there?
No.
I have spent more tears on her than all the girls that I have had in my life combined.
There are no tears left in me for her.
She has drawn me through the mud twice.
Leaving me to pick up the pieces of me on my own.
Blame for my lack of trust after having any trust that I once had shattered.
If I break will she put me back together? I don't know.
But even after all of this.
My third and final trip through the mud.
I cannot stop thinking about her.
Even being wronged, I don't care. I want to make it right.
It doesn't matter what she does to me.
I will always forgive.
always love.
A wise man said it very well and in very few words:
"Numbers rearranged. Four is no longer next to Five."
"So this is odd, a painful realization that all has gone wrong, that nobody cares at all... so you bury all your lovers clothes, and burn the letters lover wrote but it doesn't make it any better, Doesn't Make It Any Better. and the plaster dented from your fist in the hall where you had your first kiss, reminds you that the memories will fade. So this is strange, a sidestep thing has come to be, a brilliant dance where nobody leads at all, where nobody leads at all. And the picture frames are facing down and the ringing from this empty sound is deafening and keeping you from sleep. And breathing is a foreign task, and thinking's just too much to ask and you're measuring your minutes by a clock that's blinking Eights. This is incredible, starving, insatiable, yes this is love for the first time. You liked to think you were invincible, yeah, well, weren't we all once, until we felt loss for the first time? This is the last time, This is the last time, this is the last time..."
