And then come some days that are filled with rage since early morning and there’s no trick to calm me down. I want blood and that is that. I better leave the house before killing anyone.
Weak are words and emotions-untranslatable. Good I’m not a telepath-I can get lost even in the curves of my own mind. Pity I’m not God-to make the world at least half as good as I picture it in my dreams.
If only it wasn’t this sadness that maybe “I’m the only one who thinks this way”.
Where do unused feelings go? What a waste of love...