What do we do when we are being broken terribly by series of emotional evils of life? Yes ! most probably, as far as my own inexplicable mental state went, with all turns and twists, nothing remains except your haunted pathetic shadows. Nothing remains there, but sometimes you find some ritualistic drop ins, some lifeless words often added to it as a bonus thing to elevate their pretented agony with our sorrows and it goes on and on with all dramatic hamartia.
I wouldn't say no other person has had this much traumas than this humble soul, I'm just saying, not for any serious trivialies or something that could instill the shards of sympathies or anything, but truly, we cannot ignore such unconscious overflows of our feelings. It's a super natural fact that we have a damn tendency to share our emotional elegies or anything with someone we know in any way. In the case of writers, uh! if we glance over our long legendary writing traditions, such explicit writing is common among them. But why?, don't know but it happens, it may complete them and propel their writings, like a great escape from their ill state of mind. They write then, with all serious tones, galloping into fictional facts of life, an exaggeration sometimes?, twofold, tenfold, but I have still doubts, but unable to find exact answers at the same time as I find trouble weighing my feelings with that of those childish dilemmas.
So I cannot withstand those extripation, I will find hellsome needs in nuthouses then, curse my feebleness like anything. Take puffs, and all other hemlocks that could give even a moment's forgetfulness. I would love to embrace the devil then, my love. At least it soothes my inner conflicts. They weren't there when I looked for their presence, and I never wished such. I bury my elegies in my graveyard and I die every single day. I deliver eulogies for my funeral procession by myself and that is all. Take a days' walk to hell in your emotional blues and it's holy, classy and pleasure giving, I guarantee you though.