Salvation

I too was once told to write. I painted the dark 'soulscape' of mine to words. As I found the metaphors from reading what I wrote, I could think others that would ease my being. I waged war with my fragmented self; a war of metaphors. Why being good never got me anything but torment? Why doing as was thought right instead of what I felt, was not doing any good? There are now only two people who mean anything to me. Mihnea (Amor) and another one.

But even in the deepest dark, don't wish for not feeling. It will come if it will, but don't encourage it. For not feeling, is being dead. It is nothing. We are our emotions.