A Missive To Myself and To Her 2
But she wasn't so wrong, I am an animal, after all. A sick one, I must say. And sick animals must be dealt with, must be dealt the only way they are. An ax to the head, splitting my skull, letting go of all those ill feelings, desires and ideas. To be put down, but I do not want to shed my own blood, not for her, but I would not care if someone else were to do that for me.
I am not going to be any longer a victim of your whims. I will no longer lick the ground where you walk on.To think it wasn't a question of "What do you want me to do?" as you told me followed by cursing, but rather "To understand what I meant and then we be sorting this out", to put an end. I can understand that what was done cannot be undone and that you had moved on, but still, there were things that weren't completely dealt with, and so I cannot do the same as you while these feelings still lingers. But you, as always, were unable to understand that. What I say I mean, unlike you... And instead of stretching out your arm, you gave me your foot, so I would lick it clean for you. The crumbs of affection you tossed to feed me, I am fed...
Now, I just I wish for a torpor of fifty years and twenty-six days, to only after that time to wake up, look around and then be gone.
But wishes are just that. A wish and none of that will happen, only inside my head.
And I know that is also just another lie, for I like to feel that, the desperation, the melancholy and the pain. The hatred.When life is more or less acceptable, less hateful, I do something that will destroy it all and then I will lose hope. Because I like. I am a animal, a sick animal. I like to lose hope so I can recede and cope the only way I know. The detachment of my soul from my body from these times are like a divine intervention, the bitterness of teh hatred will not let me feel these slices and cuts.I do not want to shed my own blood, but then this one will not be me, for I will be away, a spectator only able to drop tears. Something else will take my place, will take control and heal me how I deserve and have to be healed.
To split teh head, to bleed, to die, to be free of this torment.
I hate her as much as I hate myself. Or even more...
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