Tzoli's Red Leather Journal

16 - The End of Spring, Yelsday

I was in the Crimson Wyvern taday and I herd a song I had not herd in a long time.

I am not the butee, I am the beest,
I am not the holy moons, I am the night,
I am not the growing vine, I am the root.

Fer the first time I think I undarstood this song. I am not the butee eethur, I am the beest. I am the root, I am evarything else... the part peepul to not want to look at but no is needid. The part no one wants.

It is spring and evaryone is in love with sumone. I am to but it duz not mattar becuz I no it it nuthing to him. But on the othar side his love is nuthing to the persin he loves as well. Horrabal plass we have both put us into. Harts a crule like that. It is love that goz to wast. I watch peepul kissing and touching and looking so happy. Fer a momint I think they are cleen and pure and the darkniss is far far away.

I think I must be veree dirty cuz I do not think anaone can love me as anathin mor then a sistar or a frend. That is a hurt that stings deep. Nuthing I can do but smile tho. So I smile. I cannot let this hurt me. I cannot let it. I cannot change the feelings of othars harts.

Spring...

I hate spring.

It always raminds me wat it is to be alone. I see all the pretty girls smiling with men grabbing them frum all sides. Men doing anathing fer them.

Aubren's words still hawnt me. Duz evaryone think I am nuthin but my hammar? That it is all I want? That I am so emptee and shallow that all I wish for is war and battal? Balor above me and below me... I am still human rite?

I am not the hammar, I am the hand.
I am not the fist, I am the rage.

The sad thing is I think I am bacoming nuthing but the hammar.

Posted by Tzoli at August 29, 2005 08:38 AM