I turned here to write. But it seems I can’t do much of it. I am asked why do I rage? Well – give me a reason not to? Yes lots. But then my life is not about reason. It is not about logic – it is not about finding happiness but living it.
I like my ruin. It gives me the bitterest happiness to know that I am suffering. That in this suffering I inflict pain on others. When that happens, I suffer more. And that suffering eases the pain of knowing I exist.
