  "Vague thoughts torture my head," said Sakis...right now he is correct. The song Between Times has come back for me again, and now the words are getting to me, now that I understand them; after, of course, reading them on a website, urlLink darklyrics.com , which includes the wonderful band Bal-Sagoth, with wonderful titles such as In The Raven Haunted Forests Of Darkmier Where The Sun Does Not Shine And The Trees Eternally Choke The Light or something to that effect, times every song on their album. But that is besides the point. "The drums of time have stopped, the ecstatic quietude," and I feel it, this quietude that drove me to a strange feeling this summer, and over Leigh Anne this year, it is the force, the demon, upon my shoulders that tells me to keep fighting and to make things so much worse than they are.
It is a strange fate for one that could want so much from people and, in the end, with his demon, leave little to be desired. This quiet hasn't yet settled back in, but with enough time it will. It doesn't readily trouble me as of yet; rather, I feel its fingers and feel the breath of its whispers.
It never hurts me, only it works on me until I forget who I am. But mostly, I feel it because I see its poison working its way out of me and on to those around me as repercussions of my actions. Scorn, mostly, well deserved, but scorn nonetheless. To whom it may concern: Whether or not your actions are deserved of my contempt are unbeknownst to me, simply I am the messenger of voices I have held back far too long, voices that I believe to be true, and not voices of my own conception, these are other people I have held back again and again.
The conflict has dissolved to loyalties now, truly; there can be no middle ground for you and I, make well known this, without someone else's dissention. Be aware that there was a reason for the things I have done, and a reason for why I keep you away now.
I have come to a point in life where there is a parting of paths, "now that there is no good escape", the paths have forked, and now I sit at the crossing of the roads and wonder as to which I shall take now. And perhaps, to go back, and see how far I have come...or perhaps, not to go at all, as it seems to me that the agony is upon everyone else and not myself at this point...although the wolves stalk at the sun sets...or rather, I cannot stay in one place too long and be safe.
Over anything, I wish I could be the totally uncomplicated me, not this romantic prodigy, shaped by society and its nuances and projections of love, love, that tepid desire, oh greatest and most destructive creation of man, the want of other humans, that which finally did bring us out from shadow, the essence of love. Love is actually not a human invention...the concepts behind it are, but as for the emotion, a product of (creation?
evolution? ) existence. And, sadly and sorrowfully, and especially for me, who would resist it as of now, it is inevitable. And thus the sun sets on another age and my understanding of the nature of life goes blurry again, a wheel of color, and I, to focus on one color and see what it may bring, be it love, be it conflict with the world, be it conflict at home, be it the same color as before, and the story as of now continues, the neverending chronicles of a man stricken with nameless emotions that interferes with all that he does...or perhaps, a modified version of that tale, where he has control of his existence.
Sorry for all the symbolism, somehow it tends to well up in periods of intense thought, as I am having now, and later, when I read through all of this, I can at least make a bit of sense out of it. Blurry, love, struggle, it all comes around. Again, that is. 
