I just found in my Facebook notes a short kinda personal story – that I wrote some time ago. It still amazes me how I wrote those things…I guess I am too full of thoughts.
If you wonder what this essay is about – I’ll tell you. It’s about love. No matter how twisted and deformed this story’s reality is – it resumes to an imperfect ray of love.
Incubus excerpt from Dark Philosophy
How many times did they say to you that you don’t belong here? How many times did they make you feel like shit, like a minuscule bacteria left alone, hopeless?
How many times after a period of joy, all that came afterward was a sensation of illicit war, an improperly formed destiny, an act of desperation. They say you have to try real hard to make it to the top. I tried hard…but I guess I must try harder.
Knowledge, powerful phrases, wisdom through words, real weapons in case of saving yourself from these outsiders. Lesser mortals with no ambition, with no courage, with no spirituality.
In a world of color, you gotta dress yourself in black and gray…
Struck by the universal ignorance, you seek the momentum of salvation, the crystal-clear drop of inattention to make yourself a future. They always come after you, they always get into your way, they always find the solution of destroying your path, your happiness.
Do or die, I guided myself after this, but in the end, the only thing I achieved was a sort of specter, the personal chimera, the delusion of being alive.
I wondered many times what if all people would die and take the shape of the monstrosities they really are. Greedy people to take the form of headless snakes with the inner vision concentrated on what they love. Killers would become rotten corpses carrying giant axes. Liars would become imprisoned in iced coffins with only they brainless heads left out. And HER, the cheating, heartless, cruel and cold visitant should stay the same. She is a monstrosity the way she is. She will never be better nor worse than this.
The universal INCUBUS…the worm of the underground graves, the black in darkness, the terror of doom, the never founded-love, the un-created…
You could call her Cinderella if you make references to the state of people who attached to her. She is a gift giver – offering the storm clouds to those who seek the sunshine, offering the dark pits to those who are looking for the heaven’s brightness…
I guess I loved her too much if I received a special present from her. I was looking for attention and warmth and she offered me imprisonment, captivity on a ethereal realm surrounded by guilt and defects.
I didn’t want it to be like this…I never asked for this…