The Diary Moment -
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Summer is gone.
Unfortunately, it left the smells of happiness in the air. I took a whiff today, and I almost passed out. I could not take the sudden flash of memories. They overwhelmed my brain. If I could only feel what I once felt on those blasted afternoons during my vacation. I felt invincible. I felt like I could kill the moon and drag it down to the ground without even blinking. 
These feelings have changed now. I fear that some things will follow me around for the rest of my life. I am drawing circles around my destiny, if God wants to send me a message: he better do it now. He took a few very precious things away from me. He owes me a favor, now. But I guess you cannot talk to God like that. God is invisible.

Winter his here.
It is so cold that I wish I could snatch the sun from the sky and hide in underneath my pullover. I hate snow, it reminds me of emptiness and nothingness. It reminds me of everything that comes between life and death, something stuck in the middle. My conscience is sitting alone, in a room full of madmen, screaming at the top of her lungs. Nobody can hear her. Nobody can hear me. I could try using a microphone but I know it would not help. What's going on? Who pulled the plug in a bathtub full of my emotions?

Spring will come soon.
I am afraid of the oncoming year. For the past two years, a thousand events marked my life deeply. I do not have enough strength or patience to climb through another similar year. This life has too much knowledge and too much ignorance packed together in the same suitcase.
The elevator of my life is going up and down, it's picking up anonymous people and dropping them off at different levels inside my head. I don't want this. I want to run away. I want to get away before THEY get me, before the demons of modernism, capitalism and consumerism finally catch me and stick me into a cage made out of glass. 

I have to forget what I know about fighting. Fighting is not enough. Rebellion is not enough. Forsaking God is not enough. Nothing is enough, and everything is too much. Take me away from the 21st century. This period is not for me. I was supposed to live in the 80s or 70s. This "idiocracy" is not compatible with my mind, with my stubborn rationality.
Sometimes, suicide seems lovely. I would do it, I swear I would do it if I knew my mother would not cry for me. But hell, I would not do it like most people do: alone, in a very pathetic and drunken way. I would do it in public. I would grab a hand grenade, I would march right down to the main government building in my city and I would trigger the thing. Then, while still holding down on the pin, I would waltz right into the room where all the ministers and presidents of presidents gather. I would, then, let go of the pin and scream: "I'm taking you to hell with me! You won't torture the people of this country anymore! I am your worst fears come true!!!" 
Then we would all die, shattered into a thousand pieces, our brains and guts splattered upon the walls.
Hell, it would take an entire cleaning squad to scrape me off those walls. 
But no. Suicide is my last resort. You can call me a terrorist. I suppose most Americans would, after reading what I just wrote about the hand grenade. The problem is that most "Americans" don't get it. This would not be terrorism. This act would be killing the scum who are constantly abusing poor and innocent people. Believe me, nobody would miss them. That's how disgusting they are.

If my mother saw what I just wrote, she would cry. But I know she would secretly be proud of me. Sounds unusual? It is.

My mother is unusual. She is the greatest mother a person could have. If God came down from the sky and told me: "Piper, do you want to change your mother?" I swear I would say: "Never, God. Never in this entire f**king world would I trade my mother for somebody else." That's how great she is.
Enough with this pathetic post. I suppose you are already sick of me. Sometimes I can be so dark. I'm not dark, I'm just too realistic for my age. I wish I was ignorant, and stupid. Then, I would not have to think about this. I would not have such a blog. I would have a blog about Barbie dolls or something of the sort.

I'm putting an end to this right now.

(I apologize if I offended anybody in this text, it was not my intention to do so. I am just expressing my opinion on certain things, and if you do not like it: then do not visit my blog. I am a straightforward person and if you don't like posts like these, I bid you farewell.)

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Piper Blurred

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