Devastation

So...
Here we are.
Again.
Yet it is not the same place.
But, familiar.
As they say, welcome to devastation.
And we are all devastated men.
Or devastated boys.
Whatever suits your self-image.
This was quite a week, huh?
Well, yes, it was fun.
For real?
Well, I liked it.
What else?
What else what?
Soooomething else...

Oh, you again.

I like to see the sky like this, it's been a while ever since I saw it for the last time. In here, the real world. It feels as if we still have something to defend, a sky that looks so good in being minor and telling few things, yet leaving the great experience to be felt, hidden, somewhere out there. As we strafe sidewards, watching it, as a movie, as a game, as a show. As it was, and will, someway, be. For us, in reality.

Do we have something to fight for?

You draw the heart. You fill it. Words of your choice. Put your feelings. THE ONES THAT DWELL INSIDE YOUR. HEART.
Do as you wish, as long as it is a heart, as long as those are emotions, feelings, whatever you feel in a way that is not purely mechanical or understandable.
SHOW WHAT YOU REALLY ARE.
...
Is that it?
WHAT DO I REALLY FEEL?
YOU NEVER TOLD ME HOW SHOULD I FEEL AND WHAT SHOULD I FEEL, YOU NEVER TOLD ME HOW WOULD IT FEEL TO FEEL.
Hatred was born as I was, and it will always be a part of it.
But the heart was divided between others, for I don't know... anything.
What is it that I feel? How does happiness feel? Is the money making me happy? AM I HAPPY WITH THESE PEOPLE? WHY AIN'T I FEELING AS IF I'M GOING TO EXPLODE?
We lack lack lack lack things.
I am afraid.
There we have the heart.
...
It is. Full.
There is fear. Dominant as a leader of fourth the power.
Never losing control, watching silently. Even though it lost its fun power, it's rage maintained through the years. Your shyness is a sign of it. The brutality in which relationships ravaged your thoughts serves as a harbinger for fear. Do you think you will ever come back?
I hope so.
Even though I say no, I hope. I will someday find the she that is worth taking a sword and shield and honoring all those who fought by me and all the giants I've met. One that will make two become the greates force of destruction, guided for good, at least once. For a king has to serve its people, as they serve him. And my people have served me for far too long without any reward.
There is anger. For there is no sign of any forgiving measures. Although there are.
But they are just too few in a sea of pure demise. And we sometimes get to be dead within ourselves. One who does not live, dead shall be. And we scream, hour after hour. The fourth of the land that abides the law of hatred, the first, and only.
BUT WE CAN WIN. STILL.
But to say that thought, anger was used. Can we use evil to finish evil? Or to just become another evil to take the throne? Is the throne really that good? Why not?
You've fought fear with anger, you've fought cold with anger, you've fought sadness with anger. To become a machine, anger took your heart, and in exchange you took its unstoppability. And hatred became the law. And the criminal. And the judge.
I try to forgive.
This is war, not union. THERE HAD TO BE UNION! THERE NEVER WAS!
There is... something that was but can't be remembered. Has it ever been there in the first place? But it is anguish. Squishing its fourth of land. Giving birth, secretly to those who help fear. Showing reality as it is not real, only in case it ever was. Showing, what wants to be shown. By the powers that be. In case, you.
IT ALL STARTED WITH YOU, IT IS YOUR FAULT THAT A PART OF THIS KINGDOM FELL.
...Crumble...
No. It only falls if there is no more shots to be given. And once a shot hits the target, we win. Dizzy or not, tired or not, in pain or not. We shoot. We get hurt, like the plague. We get sad. Because it is all inside our head, and the rule was that every emotional pain should devastate much more. Every psychological would drive us toward a psycho instance of self-defense, that would end just destroying ourselves. They all run out afraid when one's defense is an attack that evokes defense ad infinitum. Til' resources last.
But we shoot. Slowly. GIVE. ME. STRENGTH.
There is. Something more. The three couldn't be a lord for the last fourth, for the land couldn't be taken by discouragement, or disappointment. Nor shame. It is it. Which can be advocated by past.
And this one, shall take its toll.
As it is already taking. It. Is. Destroying. Us.
While it lives, no real action on forgiving shall live. You will keep wanting to cry.
We can't fight the past.
But we can acknowledge it, and thus come back to the present.
Who. Cares?
...
What is this heart? Where are the good feelings?
JUST TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK ARE THE GOOD FEELINGS. How do I know I'm feeling them? And not just fake emotions that can leave me behind.
Can they be fake?
I don't know. But I feel like there's more. People look just so happy, WHY?
WHY AM I NOT?!

Pff... destroy.

My arms feel weak, breathing is hard and not rewarding. I'm dizzy. I don't know.

For real. My left arm is hurt, somehow, the forearm aches in certain points during certain activities, that's all I know.
My belly sometimes becomes a continuous pain, and I don't know how to define exactly where and what is it. But I got some ideas, maybe it is the food. Well not the food but my eating behaviour. It has to change. And it will. I feel weak. Head aches sometimes, not much. Eyes feeling dry, sometimes like burning, it's not much.

Now I feel like I want a hug. Just a fucking hug. But a real and lasting one. Til' I'm not so afraid anymore.

In this sea of strange things, all is weird and none is weird. Weird, huh?

I tried to do so much, but I understand the problem now. I want, everything. Always. I failed some of the people I tried to meet this week. I got there pretty fucking late and that is unacceptable. I LIKE TO BE ALWAYS ON TIME, WHY DIDN'T IT WORK, WHY?!
I feel like apologizing but I don't believe in apologizing, I don't think it's pride. It's just that saying is too easy and it doesn't seem to mend things. But I don't exactly how to mend things I just... keep going at a stupid rate.
I didn't finish the works I said I would. I failed, big time. I hold myself, in order not to hate, not to bring myself down. I need to get up.
But I'm sorry.
And I wanted to do everything, to get more things and keep the old ones. To have the old ones improve.
I could scream lightnings.
My arms can smash reality.
My eyes melt worlds.
I. Explosion.

I can't show. You can't show.
How are we going to swim back to safety? It's never true if we can't trust truth.
Lies. Cakes.
And we win. But is that good? Are we good?
How can we not be them? And being everyone alike, there should be no more lies. Yet, something is wrong at its core. Or not, and the truth is we were made to destroy ourselves. Be it man or woman, be it black or white, be it, whatever it is. The past destroyed the future. Future's death poisoned the present.
But I don't want to believe it. Maybe it's because it hurts me somehow, it makes me sad.
Can I keep believing that someday people will stop this?

Hold my hand, just hold my hand in unicorn land.
For I am to afraid to come back to what was before, and you are too kind to ignore.

Is it make or break?
Argh. Yelling is stupid.

I just know that, if we don't take the judges down, the fires will turn us to ashes, and all else there is to be turned. Judgement stops, or we stop.
I'm sorry for being such a bad person in this aspect. I play so much as a judge.
They work around the clock, you work inside. Remember that funny game in which there were cats and a mouse?
I will stop judging. And then I will stop judging me. And then... something good will happen. As far as it goes, this empty promise is all I can give, for I've never been to the other side. I've never met a world without the judgement of fire.

I dreamed about my dogs a few days ago. I cried as I ran toward their spectres in the grass behind the house. I screamed the loudest I could. But I couldn't touch them. I am guilty. And for now I can't write a post that makes this and them justice.
Can I ever forgive myself?

A verdade é que eu não me sinto tão ansioso pra essa viagem. Talvez não da forma que as pessoas se sentem antes de viajar, principalmente para um país tão longe. Eu talvez me acostumei com tudo ser fácil, mas nem nas coisas difíceis eu vejo graça. Alcançar se tornou se decepcionar. Nada é como eu penso que era. Talvez o parafuso que falta seja o da expectativa realista. Eu quero mais, eu queria que fosse, algo incrível como algo me mostrou que era. Que seria.
Mas não é.
Eu só posso lutar até a morte pra fazer com que seja. Mas a dúvida é o que mata. Não um esqueleto vestindo uns panos velhos pretos. Vai valer a pena?
Eu já disse que valeria para aqueles que continuassem lutando, aos que estivessem ao meu lado quando a destruição jogasse a toalha.
Eu tenho dúvidas.
Eu tenho medo.
Eu consigo me focar quando junto toda a raiva, não em algo simples e de forma fechada a alcançar um objetivo. Mas me focar em ser cego para a dor. Mas eu não sei direito o que vale. Embora a sensação de invulnerabilidade seja muito boa.
É, eu tenho medo de que eu não aproveite tão bem a viagem. Eu não sei como aproveitar bem, qual é o melhor? O que deve ser feito? Eu só penso que queria andar por aí e às vezes ficar parado e relaxar no frio.
Talvez o parafuso que falte seja ouvir a mim mesmo e não ao que os outros querem que eu ouça.
O vazio cresce. Muito mais rápido que o resto. Mas...
Mas porra nenhuma. Eu consegui há pouco tempo para de culpar a mim mesmo por tudo. Não é tudo minha culpa, vocês fuderam este mundo e vão continuar fudendo ele.
Agora temos que manter isso e seguir em frente.
A quem eu falhei essa semana, minhas sinceras desculpas se ler isso faz algo melhor. De resto, obrigado. Foi uma semana divertida, eu quase cheguei a dizer que me senti feliz.
Talvez morrer tentando achar o algo não seja tão ruim. Se não estiver na Escócia, pode estar no Japão, pode estar na Noruega... alguma hora eu acho.
Minha cabeça vai explodir.

Are we still hunting dragons?
No. Something bigger.
Unicorn moose?!
Perhaps.


And the two continued riding their horses toward the mountains. In a land where swords and armors mattered more than brands and noisy lights at night. Where unicorns, to some, existed. And dragons, were just a matter of how much can you invest in dreams.
And hell... followed.