Still Don’t Think I’m Terrifying?

When I tell people how old I am they laugh and wave off Mt comments. They think my age reflects my mental capacity. Oh how wrong they are.

My mind is a by-product of a civilization that has managed to stand the test of time itself. A civilization that has self destructed and reconstructed itself so many times it has become a normal occurrence. My mind is a messenger from those periods of liberation and imprisonment. From those periods of time, where my civilization would not think twice about exterminating parts of itself, just to grow.

My mind contains the screams of those who were used as stepping stones for our own advancement. The corpses that lay at our feet continue to grow as we are ever so hungry for more blood. I am a by-product. Of this hubger, it consumed me before birth, and still holds me tightly.

My mind has been taught from previous leaders o my civilization that violence is what people understand, and the more you destroy the easier it is to shape the world in your image. My civilization is of the worst that have ever been created. That’s not even the worst part, the worst past is we are still relatively young. Ironic I know. We still have much to learn.

The entirety of my civilization is within me as I embody it and it embodies me. I will only help it grow. In essence I am my civilization.  Still don’t think I am scary?



You know what hurts more than dying?


You know what hurts more than trusting ?


Everything hurts. We can’t help it, but what we can help is who hurts us. We can choose to allow only a certain amount of people to hurt us.


A Lost Memory Of My Mind

I miss you. I can’t lie to myself anymore. I miss you so very much. You were the small ember that kept me warm in the darkest part of my mind. Just like any light source I took you for granted and allowed you to burn out. Looking back now, I wish I was stronger, I wish I was better,  I wish I was ready.  You said it if I held on too tight you would fall right through. I did the opposite, I barely held you. My misunderstanding of your value allowed you to fall through my hands and into the abyss that is my twisted heart. It took three years of personal torture, of self hate, of personal abandonment to figure out that I loved you, and still love you.  You understood me and was willing to protect me from everything, everyone and even myself.  I abused you,  there is no denying that or rather how could I deny that.  They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result everytime,  well this is what I’ve been doing when I lie down. I play how could I have loved you differently but the truth is we will never know. In this world second chances don’t exist, but its okay. I will still always love you.


Screams Of The Dead

It’s not hard to hear them scream. We hear them scream everyday. In the morning, afternoon, evening and even when we sleep. Although when we sleep, the screams are merely low murmurs. Only those who have experienced death or have been forced into great depression can hear them.It’s truly a frightening thing, those screams I mean. The worst part is that the screams constantly say you aren’t worthy of being alive or you don’t deserve happiness. Maybe they’re right. Maybe not. You try to help yourself and try to get out of it but your soul can’t take it anymore. The worst part, is that the closer you are to the end the easier it is for you to see them. That’s when you realize everyone has one, and it’s just a matter of time until they win and we lose. I came to terms with this a long time ago, it’s easier this way, at least for me. Who knows? Maybe you’ll understand when you’re dead and you become one of them. See you soon.