Ye Dark winged ones - Come to me, my Friends, Land on my feet and tell Me with Your dark voices Your stories of the Deep Dark Woods

(Copyrights belong to me)

I was wondering about my last writing. I think it might give the wrong kind of impression. I'm a lousy writer. My world consists of images, not words. I'm bad expressing myself using words.
I'm equally bad at analyzing my own writings yet I started to think that people who do not know or understand what I mean with the talk of hating humans, might think of me as some kind of psychopath or something, I decided to emphasize what I meant by saying that I care for most people - in some way and at least sometimes. Also I would not wish harm to anyone, that's why a world wide catastrophe would erase whoever were in its way without judgement. It would be more clean than wars between nations. 
Wishing for something like that means also that I'm willing to accept that it would be the end of all things I've grown fond of yet I know things will never get any better with the way they are now. Not without some kind of impact that would change every person's mind.

What I desire is a new beginning - probably not for mankind, since we are incapable of changing, but for all life on this Earth. The life mankind is about to erase as insignificant.
And that's something I've been carrying in my mind for many years. Unable to do anything but observe - as seems to be my role in life; observer.

That is what I meant with this lacking "tongue" of mine.

*

I've been quite tired lately. Yet I'm not worried yet. It might be the aftermath of my trip and also some of the wine I drank back then might taken some of the effects of the antidepressants back. So it hasn't affected as well for couple of days.

The medication has done nothing harmful for me to complain about but I miss drinking wine. Even two glasses of it might be too much. You get an odd feeling if you try to drink more than possible, and you know then that you must seize drinking. Any mild alcohol-drinks are allowed, like beer or two, but nothing strong.

*

Since I re-found and rekindled my affection to music, I got some flashbacks from Type O Negative albums and last late spring.

I've been doing quite well since the break-up, and the only good thing about it was the fact that it ended. I cannot revisit the emotional anguish I was put through at that time since I have nothing left to feel for that person, but I was somehow remembering the whole affair with some kind of a amusement. Perhaps I was amused by my own foolish mistake, the grave yet hard-to-believe misjudgment of character. How could I've been so blind as to believe her lies, that's something I still cannot believe. Also the way I - who have always dread carefully with affections - threw myself for her to rip to shreds. Like I was a puppet without my own will, eagerly handing her my heart and mind, which were of course abused and crushed and finally stomped on. I've never let anyone use me like that. Even with the people whose affection was already false or questionable I was able to refrain myself from ever getting too close. The only people I've given myself with trust are my few friends and siblings. And for my siblings I would be willing to go through all sorts of hellish mental agony, but to think a person who thought and felt almost absolutely nothing for me was able to twist me into this shapeless form, I'm at loss, trying to comprehend the way things happened. I am in no means exaggerating the torment I was put through. I had never felt such pain and didn't think there was a pain like that to begin with.

I guess I feel humiliated by the way she used and hurt me. That is exactly why I don't give chances to people who already don't seem to care for me, like my father. But usually those people can't hide it. And since I've at times wondered about the last summer and spring, I think I might have even seen the signs in her eyes. But like a child she kept playing and I wanted her love bad enough to ignore those cold eyes and the obvious fact how she kept tormenting me that it was a miracle I didn't break down; I was an exhausted, emotional wreck. I wish I had the words to describe how it felt. Perhaps someday I will be able to portray it somehow, since I can't shape it into words.

Perhaps part of the continuing hatred is the feeling of humiliation. It's also one of the strengths that pull inward the intense hatred which allows me to forget - yet not forgive. Never forgive. I remember all the kindness I've been given, that is why I have been civilized since I remember the kindness of her family, but I also remember all the viciousness I've suffered, and her name is in the top of the list for everything she did was personal, unlike many other insults and physiological violence.

Perhaps some wise person might consider hatred the wrong way of reacting, but that's how I've dealt with all the people who have hurt me. I cannot forgive something I haven't fully confronted yet. And my future stretches out to the next minute and not farther than that. I still despise the idea of forgiveness.

What you reap - you sow.

*

With the threat of writing too much I wanted to shed a bit more light into this bitter head of mine. We all have reasons for our actions and reactions.

I was an easy target to use, since my previous yet short "romance" with someone ended up with me suspecting of being used for some agenda; most likely to cause jealousy in the previous partner.
And before I would've gotten too involved and done things I would regret - as I am now regretting with the previous catastrophe of a relationship - I ended it. 

After that I seemed to have created feelings for a person who wasn't interested in me, perhaps just to have someone safe to like. At that time, it was painful as well, yet now I can almost reminisce with happiness, that my childlike heart was still so innocent and foolish with naivety. 
My short, disappointing and extremely painful disappointments in love-life - or more specifically; my one-sided love-lives - have left me exhausted and ready to give up that kind of life. I've been an observer as long as I can recall. I have few friends and my siblings. I have the forests, my dark winged friends and all the other occupants of the forests, so perhaps I should stick to my role in life instead of keep trying to achieve things I cannot seem to have. While I write this I feel content about it. As if I'm agreeing with myself to something I've known. I have no objections. 

*

  
I'm too old-school for posting Youtube-links, but old habits die hard - if ever. And this song is most likely going to disappear a month or couple of weeks after I've posted it here leaving only a blank frame:

Ah, the torments of the summer. Yet my memory is leaving me with the more affectionate memories of the job I had, the foods and drinks I had and the way the rising sun climbed behind my back to warm the cool mornings with its light. Those aren't unpleasant memories.