Never in a million years had I thought something of this nature, something I had only witnessed second hand, from books and television shows, I would feel. And it does not feel good. Feels wrong. Feels like I have no word of law here. I do not like this. It is rather alien and does not feel the need to acknowledge me. Too much power and too much freedom turns one rotten and vain and prideful. I do not wish to use such ugly words lest someone pries on this with their already unabashed eyes, but no words exist lower than these that scale the tower of my emotions. Advantage and confidence. Both are ugly words and when come one before the other result in nothing good to me.

I shall not speak in a tone that is condescending, but I shall express my restlessness and displeasure at what mockery my services have been made of and the way my respect has been stripped. I wonder if this is the discontentment one is to feel eventually with a person or persons they love. Whether this series of actions and ever-growing lion's manes are what one is to put up with when they are in love. And if these are it, then I cannot think of any other word more toxic than toxic itself.

Causality is not something I fancy. I have come to realize. Some degree of restraint and distance is to always be hosted between two people or groups. I do not wish for long arms and wide noses to tear me open in the name of familiarity and Causality and drink every drop of myself I have within my chambers only to neglect them later. One course meal is not what I am. Savored once and forgotten the next heartbeat. I am no meal at all to begin with. I am human and humanity forgets to be human with this human.

There is a storm in me. A storm carrying the heaviest celestial bodies ever to exist and every turn, every swirl in my chest, knocks my ribs, pricks my heart with debris and pulls the strings in my eyes resulting in a wavering floodgate of threatening tears. Words are mixing and the ground below my feet is creaking. I see no light; only dark memories haunt me alive. I see no relief, only sinking ships and monstrous mermaids. I see no fantasy land, only a barren land laden with dusts of grief and black plants of sadness with no roots and hovering clouds with soft thunder.

I do not feel that I have wronged myself. But I do feel that I have let myself be wronged. The world is enough of a broken gramophone. I cannot afford any more noise.