Dear humanity;
I don’t feel good at this very moment. I don’t feel good at all to write this letter to you, but I have the courage to. I’m brave enough to call you names and humiliate you. But I’m not going to do this. I don’t hate you but I don’t have any devotion towards you either. This is only a moment of revelation.
I don’t feel good at this very moment. I don’t feel good at all to write this letter to you, but I have the courage to. I’m brave enough to call you names and humiliate you. But I’m not going to do this. I don’t hate you but I don’t have any devotion towards you either. This is only a moment of revelation.
What are you really thinking? How dare you write every nonsense you want on me? I hope this would not end in a misunderstanding. For what I’m complaining about is not the essence of writing, but it is all the contradictions that I see in and within your empty world. A lover takes a piece of paper and writes his beloved a letter and describes whatever he feels and then when he sees her to give her the letter he squeezes me at the bottom of his pocket and doesn’t mention at all that he has written a letter on me. What should I do then? A philosopher who pretends to hate life and so doesn’t really live a life, takes a marker and fills all my sensitive skin with any kind of bull he wants; then he shuts the door behind himself and causes all my cells to shake for seconds. What does he really want from the poor wretched life? Some other time a girl who was laughing until a couple of hours ago with her friends, takes a red lipstick and writes on me that “Nobody is responsible for my death!”. And then she looks deeply into my eyes and brushes her hair and chops up her veins and dies. And the day after they print on me that a girls commits suicide for unknown reasons.
What is wrong with you humans? See what kind of hell you have made for yourselves and what a deep grave you have dug.
You have always polluted me with your own hands and have let go of me. You have always left me for some passerby to read, to ask for their attention though they don’t even give me a quick scan.
You have always polluted me with your own hands and have let go of me. You have always left me for some passerby to read, to ask for their attention though they don’t even give me a quick scan.
Although I’m so sick of the heaviness of your hands on me I have to tolerate and bear the life that you planned for me; exactly like you! The only difference is that I know myself but you don’t know yourselves. Eat your heart out humanity!
Never looking forward to hearing form you,
Never looking forward to hearing form you,
Yours never,
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