If someone told you this was a happy story then they lied. This isn't a story of love, friendship, and cheeriness. Though anyone involved will say that those elements were there, it can't be denied. No. This is a story of hatred. How deep it can grow till it consumes one's very soul, mind, and thoughts. How not in the end one has love to help survive, but how the thing keeping you strong, the only emotion you can hold onto, is pure undying hatred. And the darkness that comes with it.
This is a story of pure undying hatred, how it twists the mind, how it defines our lives and our actions. And how it can be the one thing that you live with, and how your one goal and ambition can be to fulfill that hatred. It's a story of vengance. How the one thing that you want to accomplish can be as cruel as revenge, but how you see it as the sweetest thing there ever was.
How you can be as cold as ice, ice that never melts, ice that sears the skin with pain at it's very touch, becuase it is indeed, untouchable. How no snow, or ice, can ever chill it. And how the sun, no matter how bright, never warms it. How it never even sweats a single drop of the pain and agony, and loneliness that plagues it's very existance from dusk till dawn. And how the only thing keeping them going is true pain, and the sweet taste of revenge.
It's a tale of betrayal, how it cuts into the skin of the reciever, and how they cut into the throats of the deilverer. It's about an evil so great, that it could move mountains, but the only thing they want is sweet, sweet revenge. How they want the blood of their enemy to flow in rivers of red. Showing to them at last, that they were foolish, and wrong.
It's a tale of death, how death surrounds us, and how it affects our every movement, our every thought, how it destroys us. And how one can revel in it's beauty and marvel.
It's about misunderstanding. How one can be misunderstood by their thoughts, actions, and feelings. Also, how in being misunderstood, they can be understood perfectly, and that what is understood is as cold and dark as the abyssal of the very seas and oceans. Which are all connected. As how the rivers of blood and hate that flow in our veins are connected, just as the rivers of life and love. But how for some, the rivers of love are few, and the rivers of hate are endless. How hatred blooms and grows, and how no one can see it, till it's too late.
It's a story of how love while important and inconquerable, has a match in power. And that match is hatred. And how in the end, hatred can win out. But how love, no matter how small can be kept.
It's a story about secrets. How they can be deadly, and how knowing them, or not knowing them, can depend on one's very survival. A prefect game of chess. A game of strategy and cat and mouse. How the wrong move can be the right one, and the right move, the wrong one. How every decision no matter how large or small can result in someone's death, or survival. How every decision can kill someone and save another, or kill all. How decency and moralities have no room in life, and how sometimes you have to put them away. How there is no remorse, or forgiveness in some people. And how the deadliest tricks, are nothing like the revenge of one. How cruelty, anger, and saddness can overmass love and kindness as chief emotions. And how in the end, loneliness overpowers all. How there are some things you can't cure, some things you can't forgive, some things you can't heal. And there are some things that even time can't heal.
Most of all it's about healing, how there are some wounds which never heal, and never will. And those are the wounds that are the greatest to bare. For they are emotional, and it is they more than anything else that scars us for life and takes away our humanity, our love, and make us cold, hard, and barren. And leave us with no one to turn to but ourselves and our darkness. Making us cold and bitter, and unloving and unfeeling. Eventually driving us to death. Or worse, to insane maddness in which death follows. Or worse yet, to a cold hard shell truly of no feeling forsaking all and dissappearing into the mysts never to be seen again. To deal with our pain away from all, from all but the consuming hatred and darkness. To die, alone, and forgotten.
This is a story of pure undying hatred, how it twists the mind, how it defines our lives and our actions. And how it can be the one thing that you live with, and how your one goal and ambition can be to fulfill that hatred. It's a story of vengance. How the one thing that you want to accomplish can be as cruel as revenge, but how you see it as the sweetest thing there ever was.
How you can be as cold as ice, ice that never melts, ice that sears the skin with pain at it's very touch, becuase it is indeed, untouchable. How no snow, or ice, can ever chill it. And how the sun, no matter how bright, never warms it. How it never even sweats a single drop of the pain and agony, and loneliness that plagues it's very existance from dusk till dawn. And how the only thing keeping them going is true pain, and the sweet taste of revenge.
It's a tale of betrayal, how it cuts into the skin of the reciever, and how they cut into the throats of the deilverer. It's about an evil so great, that it could move mountains, but the only thing they want is sweet, sweet revenge. How they want the blood of their enemy to flow in rivers of red. Showing to them at last, that they were foolish, and wrong.
It's a tale of death, how death surrounds us, and how it affects our every movement, our every thought, how it destroys us. And how one can revel in it's beauty and marvel.
It's about misunderstanding. How one can be misunderstood by their thoughts, actions, and feelings. Also, how in being misunderstood, they can be understood perfectly, and that what is understood is as cold and dark as the abyssal of the very seas and oceans. Which are all connected. As how the rivers of blood and hate that flow in our veins are connected, just as the rivers of life and love. But how for some, the rivers of love are few, and the rivers of hate are endless. How hatred blooms and grows, and how no one can see it, till it's too late.
It's a story of how love while important and inconquerable, has a match in power. And that match is hatred. And how in the end, hatred can win out. But how love, no matter how small can be kept.
It's a story about secrets. How they can be deadly, and how knowing them, or not knowing them, can depend on one's very survival. A prefect game of chess. A game of strategy and cat and mouse. How the wrong move can be the right one, and the right move, the wrong one. How every decision no matter how large or small can result in someone's death, or survival. How every decision can kill someone and save another, or kill all. How decency and moralities have no room in life, and how sometimes you have to put them away. How there is no remorse, or forgiveness in some people. And how the deadliest tricks, are nothing like the revenge of one. How cruelty, anger, and saddness can overmass love and kindness as chief emotions. And how in the end, loneliness overpowers all. How there are some things you can't cure, some things you can't forgive, some things you can't heal. And there are some things that even time can't heal.
Most of all it's about healing, how there are some wounds which never heal, and never will. And those are the wounds that are the greatest to bare. For they are emotional, and it is they more than anything else that scars us for life and takes away our humanity, our love, and make us cold, hard, and barren. And leave us with no one to turn to but ourselves and our darkness. Making us cold and bitter, and unloving and unfeeling. Eventually driving us to death. Or worse, to insane maddness in which death follows. Or worse yet, to a cold hard shell truly of no feeling forsaking all and dissappearing into the mysts never to be seen again. To deal with our pain away from all, from all but the consuming hatred and darkness. To die, alone, and forgotten.