It seems that by
leaving BoR I’ve unintendedly ended up insulting people whom I had plans with. Not
telling them about my sudden exit and lack of lust to continue with said future
isn’t a particular feeling I wish to inflict upon others. Yet that’s just what
I ended up doing. The fallout? Broken trust and wounded words. Both earned and justified.
It’s not the first time
I’ve left people behind. It’s not going to be the last, either. I’m not sure if
I’m able to change in the direction I want.
I’m a horrible person.
I try not to be, but I am. The morose goose with flesh of dolls, biting down
the pill of poison, sucking the feast of life’s enjoyment like a bloodless
thing. Shouldn't such a creature be put down?
Anything can change at
a moment’s notice. Everything can end in a brief second. Life goes on. Life as
a concept goes on.
I’m not going to seek forgiveness.
I’m not going to atone for my mistakes and sins.
Upsetting the status quo.
1 kommentar:
Lancelot? Where have the purple hours gone?
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