I am not sure how to think anymore.
They think I am crazy, mad, stupid, worthless… So much more. Thinking I have so many subbordinates who walk along, but no, I am quite alone on my own most of the times, no matter how things seems to change, but we’re just there, me and my ego, going on and on and on.
Every time I am thinking that it might have ended up, but no…
Just every time it ends up with word “strange”.
Oh how I wish you could breath a bit of life into me, but endlessly hoping for change… Being strange…
I assigned demon-guardian to one my known friend, he changed drastically… Badly to the extent he is just too bad now. No idea how… wait, for me to reverse it I have to go back and meet him and change it… But knowing how demons adapt to people and aren’t willing to let go, it makes sense it will be long, hard, bad and painful… He might end up hating me. Might be.
Can you remember the day on the hill? That sunset and the way we were feeding from the last evening rays of sun? How warming that was, yes… I wish we could be there again, but if we shall, it’ll be so different this time.
I am starting to miss my life a year and something ago… when I was with Him. You do remember how it felt so true and real and drastically and painfully changed and reversed itself to the point of me barely breathing, crying and bleeding my pain out. But you know it does hurt still, I can’t help it that I am so much into that person. Just bear with me, I know I sound exceptionally annoying at times, I am very sorry for that, but I can’t help loving when I do. And thus you know I am one of them people that love only few times during lifetime. That seems quite sad. Bad. Falling.
It is hard to forget someone who gave you life, called the dreams, adapted you to things you never knew you would and then vanishes into thin air, leaving pain and despair.
I sound frustrating to your ears and very sad, but this is how I am.
Drinking myself to the ends of the memories to touch them again – I seem out of my mind.
I miss you, my friend… I hope we’d be lucky enough to trace our lives back to the point where we were cutting ourselves through despair and looking towards our loneliness as splashes of emotions in life were filling the holes, but again we cutted out scars to make them a resemblance of what was there in our lives, you know – art to us comes with pain of the lies.
Hope one day it’ll change…