Let people lose you. Let them misunderstand you. Let them create their own stories; don't rush to fix them. Let time answer what you never needed to explain. Every truth reveals itself when the right time comes.
I have learned silence from the talkative, tolerance from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet, strangely, I am ungrateful to these teachers.
-Khalil Gibran
My body is nothing but a monument of inevitable decay. I no longer walk but drag my shadow over the remnants of scorched memories. My eyes are twin black holes absorbing the beam of the universe's last flickering star.
And death shall be my friend, my comrade and the silencer of all pain. For I have witnessed light fading away from everything I once loved. I live in a silence universe with dust roaming quietly around me marking the cold passage of time.
I look at the heavens and no longer see a sky but a velvet bruised tragedy. The sun is no longer a star but a scar, a malignant ulcer marking the end of my final night.
The so-called ‘psychotic depression’ to which they were subject is a different thing entirely. It is a level of psychic pain wholly incompatible with life as we know it.
It is a kind of radical and permanent ontological isolation. And it is not a 'feeling' at all—not in the sense of a 'sadness' or a 'downness'—but rather a quality of the atmosphere,
History will write it's epitaph and future will be a forbidden myth. No child shall grow and no wound shall heal for the whole universe will be locked under the shadow of my resentment.
Hello darkness, it's me, again. I have promised myself to seize your reoccurring reign but I lost. I allowed myself to hope while forgetting that the higher you hope and stronger you fall to the ground.