You are responsible for all that you do, all that you don't do, and the consequences thereof.
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Diary 20131110
The indomitable power of despair.
I don't mean the power of inflicting it.
The power of possessing it.
Willpower.
Why do I have willpower?
Why am I so much stronger than the rest of my family?
Discontent.
The inability to be content.
Disturbance.
Despair is all that binds me.
Holding me back from imbicilic rage.
I am not content.
///////////////////////////////////////////////////
I watch.
I do nothing.
I cry.
I do nothing.
I laugh.
I do nothing.
There is one thing I want to do.
They tell me to stop.
////////////////////////////////
How can I tell my story?
What is my story?
Do I even have a story?
////////////////////////////////
I still don't know what it is I am trying to do.
Fix the world?
Save the world?
Condemn the world?
Break the world?
When something is broken, it isn't destroyed.
Instead, it's changed, drastically.
Yeah. I want to break the world.
Sometimes, fixing a person,
requires breaking who they currently are.
Otherwise, how will they become someone new?
Destroying pillars that support the current corruption.
Leaving a system that collapses.
Ruins that can be used.
Build.
Build again.
Again.
No matter how many times it falls.
Build.
Build again.
Again.
Don't rebuild.
Just build.
Again,
and again.
Build.
//////////////////////////////////
It is not despair that makes me strong.
It is despair that lets me be strong.
Without despair, my strength, would break me.
It already did.
How many times?
I can't remember.
I don't remember all the people I've been.
I only remember who I am now.
No. It's not can't. It's won't.
Remembering...
Not something I will do.
Such things. I will not let them return.
It broke, because I wanted it to.
I don't like who I was.
I don't like who I am.
I don't like who I will be.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
That many times?
Maybe.
//////////////////////////
Why am I writing again?
I don't know, but I like it.
I like it when I write.
Silence is lonely.
//////////////////////////
My mind became full, that's why I wrote. It overflowed.
//////////////////////////
Perhaps it's not my story I need.
What I need to write is the story of who I want to be.
I don't know that story.
To change, I must find that story.
Or make it.
I don't mean the power of inflicting it.
The power of possessing it.
Willpower.
Why do I have willpower?
Why am I so much stronger than the rest of my family?
Discontent.
The inability to be content.
Disturbance.
Despair is all that binds me.
Holding me back from imbicilic rage.
I am not content.
///////////////////////////////////////////////////
I watch.
I do nothing.
I cry.
I do nothing.
I laugh.
I do nothing.
There is one thing I want to do.
They tell me to stop.
////////////////////////////////
How can I tell my story?
What is my story?
Do I even have a story?
////////////////////////////////
I still don't know what it is I am trying to do.
Fix the world?
Save the world?
Condemn the world?
Break the world?
When something is broken, it isn't destroyed.
Instead, it's changed, drastically.
Yeah. I want to break the world.
Sometimes, fixing a person,
requires breaking who they currently are.
Otherwise, how will they become someone new?
Destroying pillars that support the current corruption.
Leaving a system that collapses.
Ruins that can be used.
Build.
Build again.
Again.
No matter how many times it falls.
Build.
Build again.
Again.
Don't rebuild.
Just build.
Again,
and again.
Build.
//////////////////////////////////
It is not despair that makes me strong.
It is despair that lets me be strong.
Without despair, my strength, would break me.
It already did.
How many times?
I can't remember.
I don't remember all the people I've been.
I only remember who I am now.
No. It's not can't. It's won't.
Remembering...
Not something I will do.
Such things. I will not let them return.
It broke, because I wanted it to.
I don't like who I was.
I don't like who I am.
I don't like who I will be.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
Break.
Build.
That many times?
Maybe.
//////////////////////////
Why am I writing again?
I don't know, but I like it.
I like it when I write.
Silence is lonely.
//////////////////////////
My mind became full, that's why I wrote. It overflowed.
//////////////////////////
Perhaps it's not my story I need.
What I need to write is the story of who I want to be.
I don't know that story.
To change, I must find that story.
Or make it.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Friday, November 08, 2013
Wednesday, November 06, 2013
Monday, November 04, 2013
Saturday, November 02, 2013
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