My unconscious has yet again made its intentions known by making my nightly rest a restless one. Perhaps the fumes of neglected loathing which can be nothing but dismal had infected even that part of me which I am not in touch with. Confusion is a miracle of damnation.
The only constant variable in those dreams is a man who is unaffected by his surroundings, even though physical pain is inflicted on him as well. I do not know if he is actually alive, or if he is forged from Spermaceti, for even though he breathes, blinks, and sighs, not even a hint of human emotion is present-- at least not to me because he only became human for her.
A new variable has entered the scene, one that is uncalled for. With the previous dreams only screams ensued, but now...
Confusion is at its peak. On the one hand, I know very well that I should unceremoniously bury the body of emotions that should have been long deceased. On the other, I think I should set them ablaze in undeserved glory until the woods char and all oxygen has been spent. That is why in life's play, I will always be the one unfavourable, the one who determines one's own death in the course of an unfulfilled life, dying in fits of regrets after being dealt the fatal blow by the celebrated protagonist. It is fun while I watch my anger swallow up the cries of mercy, but when nothing is left, only then does a glimmer of guilt flash on my cheek, reflected by the blazing light, evaporating just as if it had never flowed.
When is it time for pride to be put aside? Surely, it is now too late? If like a beggar I come crawling, how pathetic would that be? There is nothing more disgraceful than to beg! To beg for anything! Desperate as one may be. I am a pathetic fellow, indeed. If for so long I have been too proud to the point I have lost everything that I ever cared for, then would it not be redundant if I abandon all pride at once, when I have nothing but it left? What is there to keep, anymore? One day it will destroy me yet again, but without it now, I cannot pull the fleece in front of my own eyes to carry on. It is the bargain for keeping pride by my side.
No one shall pity me and I deserve none. In the dreaming world, it has been made clear that whatever I choose to do now will be unappreciated, unwanted, and mocked with disgust. I may cry, but nobody shall be moved, neither will they extend a hand offering tissues.
Scream, until you believe it.
Schrei!
On a cliff now, I feel the air of the wild purifying me.
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