HELLO.
"Contrariwise," continued Tweedledee, "if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn't, it ain't. That's logic." Through the Looking-Glass; Lewis Carroll
| Hello. | Goodbye. |
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Through the Looking-Glass; Lewis Carroll |
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Thursday, November 16, 2006, 3:45 AM
I LOVE YOU. firm believer in karma here. I believe it's good for my spiritual need, heh. Either way, if I curse her then i'll kena cursed back, so... ah, wtf. BIASNESS MAKES ME FAIL HISTORY. one sided sources. one sided minds. maybe... Why don't you believe in us? We've been at this for almost as long as they have. we've slogged out guts out, worked ourselves numb, cried, bled, argued, screamed, fought against all this. and for what? For you to say that we're not good enough? I must have been wrong. REALLY REALLY WRONG. There is something worse than him. YOU. We're all the same. We're all of one dream. But in what way can we not compare up to them? Maybe we're just unlucky. Maybe we didn't have the good fortune to know you when you could have changed your minds about us. But I guess it's too late, huh? But seriously. What right have you to do this? It's not yours, and you still blatantly insist on having it. Oh. I forgot. POLITICS. Of course. It makes sense. You'd protect them first. They're your ticket to the stars. Why? Because they're oh so gifted. Because they had the luck to meet you earlier. Your proteges. But you know what? I pity them. You've taken away what they should have been, and placed in them what you'd wanted to be. I pity you. Why? Because you had become what you'd wanted to be. But then you'd left it behind. And then you refused to let it go. And you made it live on i n them. It sounds wonderous, yes. But it's like striking rocks together to build a fire. By rights, fire should burn as it is. But even when the first sparks appear, you deny them wood. You deny them what they should have. And you keep striking. More sparks appear and still you keep on striking. You want to keep the fire alive. And then, even though the sparks grow brighter, no wood is proffered. You keep striking. And then? What do you see on the rocks? Dents. Marks. They're no longer the perfect rocks you'd found. And then suddenly, the sparks hit your skin. You're burnt. And you refuse to drop the rocks, and give the flames a chance to burn. You get burnt. The skin on your hands peel away. And yet, you still refuse to let go, despite the agony. When will you stop? Will you still keep on fighting against your agony? And sooner or later, the sparks die away. The rocks crumble to dust and blow off into the wind, out of your hands. Will this happen? I don't think that it would have been that bad to let the fire burn. At least, if the fire had faded, you could have remembered that it had burnt. But you'd prevented the fire from burning. Is this what you're doing? Is it? Are you taking away their hopes, their thinking, their destinies, their lives? Now are they living your lives? It's really selfish if that's positive. For you yourself had been a fire. And when you'd faded away into the wind, you'd still wanted to go back to the times when you had burnt. The times when you'd reigned supreme. I guess you just couldn't let go. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened. Sometimes I'd been so jealous that I hadn't been the rocks in your hands. Sometimes I hate myself from hiding behind delusions you'd caused. Burn, fire burn. Burn on, blow to the wind. Blow away all your hatred Blow away your anger. Blow away all your regret. Blow away the past. Leave the past behind. |