There is no innocent victim

Living in a jungle with the beast for 4 years takes nothing but fear. Beaten up for days in a very unmercy winter. No one told her that love might be an endless painful road but now she knows .looking at the moon through a broken soul and a weak vision feels nothing more than emptiness. Being driven by the resting memories, she takes a homeless paper and writes: the most painful thing is not being alive is the ability of feeling. I still feel I do not know which destination to chose or what faith to embrace. still, that fog haunts me, and the cruelty of nights sweeping me towards collapse, extinction, towards everything devastating other than death. Nothing comforts me and reassure me other than waiting, waiting in vain. For a long time, I had waited for that event, that pleasant surprise, that unknown savior, but I waited so long until becoming revolutionary felt harder than anything I had missed. I loved my dreams to the extent of not wanting to awaken. In my imagination, I see myself as a great woman, a woman who does not fear, a fighter who adores challenges. I covered this beautiful soul with cowardness. Feeling afraid, I wanted to repress and present her. I wanted to punish her for excellence and uniqueness, for having that magic on me. I had cut the tongue of logic forever and pushed cowardness to become powerful. Those voices with devotion planted doubt. But above all, I do not want to be a dry heart anymore breathing a lonely wait and pulsating a faded dream. I aim for a silent sleep and a noisy reality.