2004-03-15

A soul filled with hate

I'm not who the world thinks that I am, I prayed for a foggy day. Oppressing shades of gray lingering outside of my windowpane, and I look out in satisfaction. I don't want sunlight, I want gray, gray, gray, gray...

Boiling tea releases a scented humid smoke of dancing water particles in the air. My hand shakes as I pour the tea, a fainting spell comes along, but I ignore it...it will go away. Howard Zinn sits laying on my nightstand--haven't thumbed through the soft-dry pages since last night. Contemplating history, contemplating life. One sentence stood plastered in my head as I tried to make sense of everything.

The torture is beyond sweet--relief...

Torture like the violent sobs, like the fetal position your body subconsciously goes into as your nails dig into your scalp, the tears flow hot and bitter...

Pace the hallway...pace the hallway...look out of the window--no moon, only a dark night. Abandoned again by the moon. There's a fine line between my soul and insanity--a soul that rages with love and immense hatred--a need to hurt and destroy beyond repair. I don't love, that's not my job...I hate. I welcome love so that I may turn it into hate...it is so beautiful--a black heart. No heart is even better, because then remorse is non-existant.

Calm down and look outside at the gray consistency in the sky--still air of death and misery. My misery is beautiful, my misery gives me purpose, my misery...

aeka at 7:31 a.m.