the power of the potency of the past, is contricting me. i know what i felt, what i knew, the thoughts that slashed my mind at 4 in the morning when all they were surroun ded by were the thick density of foggy mass. the slight variations between numbness and nothingness and nothingness and normality. we all want to feel nnothing or feel numb or to feel normal, but we never want to feel nothing or feel numb or to feel normal. the depth and complexity wraps over the normality binding in a knot over my eyes. it prevents my from the power of observation. i have nothing new to write but the continual destruction and decandence we witness before. the numbness, the nothingness the normality is the blindness. . and suddenly after a day of tragic tales i start to notice. i can see. in the moment i stop thinking about whats gone and begin to witness it comes back.
you use your attitude as an excuse. dont judge me because it's in my nature. it's my attitude i cantt help it. well genius is often drawn from insanity. and every tragic boy sitting in a desolate corner. thursting the story of your despondancy to everyone and anyone. well some miracle doess't come along to every single one and save them till they keep blaming their nature untill their death