My head is swollen with artifacts and revelations, combined and collided. Some rescuing me, some drowning me. I am feeble. I am tense. I am empty with defeat, I am full of despair. And anger and hurt and sad. Do people love torturing others so much, that they live with themselves as torture? Spun of evil, of spiteful and of complete denial.
I envy the ones that have never been a part of this.