After I draw a card set, sets the thing which is ball and a Sun. Covers sky and shines afterwards light on our Earth. To see things upcoming, I riot in self, do the thing very in exhausts but never do I die. Maybe that was that harsh and an eyeball that draws lines out of scribbled lines neat and straight. Have I listened to the moving wind or cautious was I. Well, curious I am to include this in my book of things miserable. That I am jealous of a friend of mine back when I was a child. He felt like superb to me, and his kind. I guess that the exact opposite do attract. I was like the wimp in that friendship cause and an effect was that then put by. Not to say that I hated or still do hate myself. Hell, I’m thankful till now even for my cat that died way before. Can we draw a line straight to our mind, kind, and a take of a deep thing that is intrinsic, may it could be, so as to be ruling out lives of ours together, wish he even did listen. In my own solitary mind, mind I not what happens then and then. For next is next, and that is only that. Haveth I emotions to care, ey, might I now as well ignore the sin of remorsing over one’s self. It’s not a case of ignorance or what else might you as well tend to think, a case of a pride. Here falls what falls by as in hence, well, you ought to have known it from the beginning of this jot, I’m a psychopath. People like to submit to my eyes as they see none of a thing like decent eye contact or a vivid emotion on my face. Hell, I’m even silent alone but yet not suppressed every day in life. Could be mystique from me, huh, that what you see on me, a gift of a light that maybe I am. I do run lonely every single day and have I not a friend till now. But what was that incident of a friend I had in the past when I was a child. He was the only friend I had at that time and till now. Guess I’m born afterall just a lunatic existent to not seek a life, and might you have think, I has no life whatsoever so. Oh and so, afterall, I really laid this a writ of a kind that may seem decent, nevertheless, afterall, it’s only a scribble that I wrote just now for the sake of living a life. How not though, I’m already existent beforehand down on Earth, Oh so I really don’t care forever, may you have listened to this writing, why ? I already told you I’m a psychopath and this only is a scribble, not a write-up. So as to say, I scribbled for you as may well listen to me, really don’t even know why I said this. Maybe it’s because there’s a light deep inside my heart. Hell, is this the creep of me tending out today or is it a real light thing innate in me kept locked up till this day of my living. Well, only if you give me a spark to my head, would I have listened for once to my talking self in my whole entire life. I guess there is another me kept inside of me that never without to life. It’s something that really needs to breath. I really just cannot forget about it any more. I need a breakage or an outlet. Maybe it’s even clearer than I ever thought it is, hey then that’s a signal of hope and life for me to live on and on for once and for all. I’m not a psychopath afterall, huh !? Where was the light at though, huh !? It’s a deep realization of a thing. Broader as I tend to look therefore, there lies the other self of me. Wish I only knew what was there to know. And it’s that I wasn’t a psychopath or sick as people called me in my whole entire life. But I’m a person out of a gifted light, hey, you know afterall, I really have a case of psychosis, and why would I be not gifted. Yet, thus it is laid in a writing, and thus i write things, an escapism is all what i need when I tend to think things. I really need a spark from you to my brain to get out of this somewhat dump thing. Ey, all I need is to be cheered up by an audience or a crowd who listens to me. Afterall, I really has no friend in all of my life, not even once. What else can I guess, the writ has been written. And the lest of me has gotten bittersweet, and I really don’t know if you all will listen or not. But yet here is my light outwards gleaming… And what else could it actually be besides a heart throbbing and a time going. There lies me and an outlier i am and i do be. Besides what else it actually could be, besides a human that dont see since theres no light or an insight inside of me. I guess so rules then are rules like life. And i didn’t break all the rules, not at all. I broke my heart and myself all by myself, not knowing though. To say that a sick person I was is false to identify, or was it right. Yet im breathing, could it be less harmful a spend of life. Could i be less meaningful in time that passes by. Memories back then killed my heart but still remains a gist of a heart. I’d rather it dies, that a heart. Tomorrow’s knocking on a door, here i am, and there no not will i be sane enough to write words anymore, maybe word salad. Last piece i wrote this, so as to be me that had been lost in the past. And what will i be… a dead man walking, with no heart, emptiness inside, a soul broken, angel fallen, face changed, red faced, harms of lost pain, and yeah, im rather dead and all gone.

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