the flesh is weak
“but I try so hard.”
pulsation. i feel them move inside me.
i have no idea to know whether they died or not, nor do i want to know. it’s sickening.
it’s a curse upon me that they helped me develop a form; a way to feel what those human beings feel. it doesn’t feel right. do they seriously have to live with these choking emotions? all those senses, everything i touch and feel and everything i see and hear - it bares evil.
one day, one beautiful day, i will consume myself and be free of this agony.
they will be free of this agony.
all eight of them.
on those certain nights, it’s even worse as i can see inside myself. it’s different to what I used to think about that epitome - i feel what’s called ‘fear’ as i stare at myself on the inside, i feel empathy for those that’s stuck in there with me, even those who don’t live or need to.
it’s visceral. living is such a visceral feeling.