[B0b_J3ffers0n]

I hate myself.
I hate my incompetence.
I hate my ignorance.
I hate my selfishness.
I hate my inability to help.
I'm useless.

I've been collecting flowers for a while now.
Poppylus, Azilaena, Sinka.
None quite work like the Azilaena, though.

A flower for an eye.
A diary of lies.
I'm truly despicable.

I never would have thought that I preferred blue.
Or is it more of a lavender colour in my hand?
I can't really tell.
Have I lost touch?

An eye for wisdom.
A faux sense of martyrdom.
Dreams?
Nightmares?
Do I know a difference?

I do quite like clouds.
If you look at them enough, you can make pictures.
I used to do that alot.
I wonder why I don't, anymore?

I feel sick.

I should be getting better.

Why aren't I better?

She offered me an out.

Why do I let myself linger?

How truly selfish.

Is it for more power?

Some wish granted I turned out to be.

Perhaps I should paint.