Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Sometimes, I feel like killing someone...And yet, I just can't find anyone, nor enough motivation to do so. There's no one, yet, bad enough. Detestable enough for me to hate him to the core so that I can execute my revenge. The short spates of anger I choose not to retaliate, or the bursts of irritation when I look at the dismal failures around me. They breed my homicidal thoughts, fuel my vindictive emotions. But somehow I just can't deem them...worthy of my hand. My green fingers so to speak.
Perhaps I've watched to much of Poison Ivy, or listened to too much "Stranger". But even so, I don't change my default expression of condescending mockery, my skeptical outlook nor my acrimonious tongue. I can't really help it.
But of course, there exists the manual overriding. And yes, I've been restraining. When you shoot your mouth off, I choose to ignore those words that sear like the flames that turn my trees into ash. I take them lightly, for Nature is benevolent. I refrain from hurling an insult back, for that violates my hoped ceasefire. I just wish for something to blossom. A flower, a blade of grass. A tiny sprout would do. But if you choose to destroy and defile the lands I've been trying so much to fertilise, just for a tiny shoot to rise. I won't return the favour, I won't stoop to that level. That would be a last resort. For now, I shall abandon the land altogether, for there would be no point to try and make something grow...When you crush it again and again. Cruelly, just when my babies turned mature. You obliterated them.
I believe what I've done may not be adequate. So I seek to change. But I absolutely think I deserve that modicum of respect at the very least for my efforts.
Dark Memories[6:05 PM]
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