December is a bad month, for me personally it is. It’s the events that transpires that just hurts me in a way that I can’t imagine. Last month was no different. To all who read my comments and blog (both this one,and the defunct one) know that sometimes, not always I complain. I complain when I just can’t express my disappointments. And I complain through writing.
So why is it that I want to write so much, and still can’t? Maybe I’ve matured, maybe just maybe I’ve become one of those early 30’s people who are recognized as being cold. I’ve heard the word Freak in my life many times, but only now does it sound okay to me. Again maybe it’s cause I act like one?
I’m more of a loner, in real life. Those who know me are far and few, and one of those is now not with me, someone close. I again think why am I writing this. The answer cause writing is the only way I have always expressed myself.
Although I’ve changed myself it seems internally I’ve not moved an inch. That emotionless, heartless, freak kid that I was, the loner,is still there. Make no difference to me, but I do think about as to why I’m still breathing?
When you encounter Death, from personal experience and from the experience of being a witness you ask yourself is life really worth it? A man looking forward to enjoying his life taken away in a blink of an eye,and a man who wants to die still breathing watching the person who wants to live die. If a God does exist he is one sadistic being. That’s why he doesn’t understand humans, and humans don’t understand him.
But even if you curse, cry, scream, and think of hurting yourself the reality won’t change. A piece is lost and you’re also lost. Which means that all that left is a broken soul which will never repair.
Flutter, and it falls
Struggling attempt, recommence
A broken wing, Fly