MIZ

tell it to the walls, cos the people don’t care. what does it matter if one’s intentions are good, that whatever she did was to try to help? does it matter, at all?

fate has this funny way of playing with people. leads us all around, only to let us find we’re still stuck at square one at the end of the day. this perpetual dejavu isn’t funny anymore. sickening, really.

the people that were once patient reveal themselves frontiers, people with masks, not exactly genuine. but instead parade themselves as heroes in their own right. saying, i hid my true feelings for the benefit of others. but face it, won’t you? just like someone who’s waiting for love doesn’t camplain about why it’s taking such a long time, people who want to help don’t fucking publicize.

this is why i left church in the first place. all that hypocrisy, i want to be in no way part of it. this time round, by going back, by trying, everyone’s proving to me, one by one, that i made the wrong choice.

awkward silences, condescending looks and whispered disapproval. i know i’m not imagining this. or am i? can never be too sure, for one. and for the next, grant me the benefit of doubt, please. i’ve been away from home far too long.

so let the one who is sinless cast the first stone.

no one dares claim that place, but instead found a loophole, so all them people cast their stones at the same time. since everyone, could technically be called the last who threw the stone, they gratify themselves, as well as rightfully punish the one who’s convicted, and not feel condemned themselves.

i’m convicted. i am guilty. my flesh is weak, weaker than most. i wish it weren’t so. but my will is deteriorating. after all, what is there to live for, pray tell. i cannot find my purpose, nor the motivation to continue down the road to greatness, because i lost all sight of the target, and besides, the benefits hold no regard in my eyes. so the question is, when the goal is rendered dead and gone, do i still go the distance?

the opposite enchants me, tempts me mind and body. my spirit obviously feels the guilt, but it’s negligible enough for the moment.

some one find me something to stay good for and i will. because i’ve already descended to the point where self-help is fucking useless,because ’self’ wants all the so-called wrong things.

this time tomorrow, i will be dead. and who will care to cry? who would care enough to call, or type in a nice sentence and send it in as a comment?

people are selfish. by nature. people are bad.