I have often thought of what I would say to you if I saw you. Whether spitting in your face would be an adequate measure to express the sincere hatred in my heart. I actually cannot come up with an adequate measure. It's hard to label your feelings as this or that...I have moved on from protecting and sheltering, to running but you have to understand this is only because of the personal attacks leveled at me. This fixation on 'virtue' and chastity, this talk of women being tissue papers, it sickens me. Resistance is an exercise entrenched in futility.(I despise hypocrisy)
The human heart is a fragile place. The mind is just another cog in the machine - its is a verb, not a noun, and it's sole purpose revolves around repeatedly trying to erase the indelible scars the heart's suffering leaves behind. People say experiences are enlightening, all of them. I beg to differ, I can't sleep anymore, and I can't write or love the way I used to. My fantasy has now transformed and involves me running, running, running, running. I do not see these as particularly beneficial developments. Some experiences, are counter-productive.
I'll grab anything to soothe away the pain (I despise desperation)
The Light Through Rafters
21 hours ago