Κυριακή, 28 Ιουνίου 2015

....

So I just finished watching Mock the Week, for those of you that don't know what it is, its a British satirical TV program, that does exactly what it says, mocks the week's news. Of course this weeks news is Greece. We got mocked. We got mocked good. I might make another post as to why it hurt me deep, but the way they mocked us was the worse. They weren't mean, or rude or anything, but it was painful to watch as a Greek. Maybe we deserve it, I don't know. All I know is I'm ashamed. First time in my life, first time after being in the UK, I am ashamed. I am ashamed for being Greek. It's not their fault. Nobody in the UK has made me feel that way. I am ashamed to be called Greek, I'd hide my nationality today, because I'm not proud. I'll always be me, but I'd rather I wasn't Greek today.

Τρίτη, 19 Αυγούστου 2014

Coming Back to You

Coming Back to You
You ain’t part of my life no more
You are to me what the sun is to snow
It ruins, it burns, it melts it down
My existence is without reason
Although, I keep returning back to you
Never counting that it really hurts
To be with me, you shout, you can’t
How hard you really fought to see?
The truth I offered you to live?

I’ll never need you anymore
That’s what I thought, that’s what I said
I’ll never hear your voice again
That’s what I thought, that’s what I said
I’ll never shout your name again
That’s what I thought, that’s what I said
I’ll never cry again all night
That’s what I thought, that’s what I said
But still, I think of you again
But still, I hear you in my mind
Shouting, screaming now your name
And with my tears I drench your note
That you’ written to me once, like lies
“You’re the very best thing,
That’s ever happening to me”

It wasn’t quite enough to you
The love I had to give, sadly true
Ever thought what I said to you?
But like an old friend said
It’s the first love that’s a whore
I’m really running out of lies
That kept connecting you and me
So that’s the reason I’m leaving
I wish you well and bid goodbye
I hope you’ll find out someday
That I was more than just a passer by
And that you never offered me the chance
To prove to you that I still loved you

I’ll never need you anymore
That’s what I thought, that’s what I said
I’ll never hear your voice again
That’s what I thought, that’s what I said
I’ll never shout your name again
That’s what I thought, that’s what I said
I’ll never cry again all night
That’s what I thought, that’s what I said
But still, I think of you again
But still, I hear you in my mind
Shouting, screaming now your name
And with my tears I drench your note
That you’ written to me once, like lies
“You’re the very best thing,
That’s ever happening to me”


Σάββατο, 16 Αυγούστου 2014

SciFi Story

So there was a period of about 7-8 years that every Wednesday the newspaper my parents would buy, "Eleftherotypia" would have a comic book accompanying it, named "9". It had some standard stories and comics, but it also had 1 or 2 SciFi stories. I never really read or enjoyed most of them, but a few caught my eye, and as the impressionable teen I was around 2005 or 2006 I took to writing my own. At the time I dabbled a bit with trying to read and understand George Orwell's 1984. Other than the plain meaning of it, that our governments are turning into the omnipresent, all-seeing organisations and all freedom is lost I failed to grasp the more subtle and underlying messages of the book. In my later formed opinion Huxley described a society much closer to today's reality. So this post is here to "publish" a story I wrote around 2005. I recently read it again, and it gave me an insight into who I was back then, what troubled me and a tiny glimpse of why I am who I am today. The writing is crude, the style probably ripped off from the latest story I'd read back then and ultimately the story is more of a depiction of my then perception of myself in the world rather than a story, but I suppose that's what most stories are. I know I promised I'd write in English but I will post the original document in Greek for originality's sake and a translation will follow.

Διήγημα Επιστιμονικής Φαντασίας


Πέρασε την κάρτα αναγνώρισης για δεύτερη φορά από το ειδικό μηχανημα χωρίς αποτέλεσμα. Την τρίτη φορά η πόρτα άνοιξε. "Καταραμένα μηχανάκια" σκεφτηκε, καθώς η γυναικεία φωνή έλεγε "Καλωσήρθατε στο κέντρο αναψυχής ΤΥΟ431ΧΩ". Κάθε είδους μπαρ, σινεμά, κλαμπ, καφέ είχε μετατραπεί σε κέντρο αναψυχής με κωδικές ονομασίες σε μία προσπάθεια της τεχνοκυβέρνησης να εξαλείψει κάθε τι που αφορούσε την παλαιά ανθρώπινη φύση του κόσμου, Τα πάντα είχαν μετατραπεί σε μηχανές σύμφωνα με το νομοσχέδιο 321- σαραντακάτι που αποσκοπούσε στην απόλυτη ασφάλεια και την εξαφάνιση κάθε είδους απάτης, οικονομικής, ασφαλιστικών εταιριών, κτλ. 

Έτσι όμως το 92% του πλυθησμού της Γης κατέληξε άνεργο αφού κάθε μεγάλη επιχείρηση έσπευσε να αγοράσει τις αλάθητες μηχανές της τεχνοκυβέρνησης. Ακόμα και τα λειτουργήματα της κοινωνίας αντικαταστάθηκαν από μηχανές. Παππάδες κυκλοφορούσαν χωρίς να έχουν κάπου να κυρήξουν το λόγο του Θεού αφού κι αυτός είχε αντικατασταθεί από μια CPU (Central Processing Unit) που εκτελούσε τα καθήκοντα της. Έτσι οι παππάδες αντικαταστάθηκαν από ολογράμματα τα οποία είχαν χαμηλό κόστος ενέργειας. Πάραυτα ο κατακλυσμός της κοινωνίας από τις μηχανές οδήγησε σε έλλειψη ενέργειας. Για πρώτη φορά στην ιστορία του κόσμου αυτό ωφέλησε αφού τα δυο πρώτα χρόνια άνοιξαν εκατομμύρια θεάσεις εργασίας ώστε να παραχθεί ξανθά μεγάλο ποσό ενεργείας. Στο τέλος του δεύτερου χρόνου κάποιος Γερμανός εφευρέτης βρήκε ένα διαφορετικό τρόπο επεξεργασίας της βιομάζας ο οποίος απέδιδε το 70% της πυρηνικής ενέργειας και ήταν πιο ασφαλής και από τον ηλεκτρισμό. Άμεσα, έκλεισαν οι θέσεις εργασίας και η ανεργία έφτασε το 95% του πληθυσμού της Γης. Η εικόνα που είχε όλος ο κόσμος ήταν αυτή του Παρισιού του 2005 Αντί για μπάτσους όμως η κυβέρνηση είχε επιστρατεύσει μια καινούργια εφεύρεση. Τα energy walls τα οποία απλά μπλοκάραν κάθε είδος βιολογικού όντος από το να τα διασχίσει. Το μεγαλύτερο μέρος των πόλεων ήταν γκέτο με ανέργους. Τα υπόλοιπα απλά δεν είχαν καλυφθεί με energy walls λόγω της χαμηλής ροής παραγωγής αυτών. Ο κόσμος και κάθε είδους κοινωνικό σύνολο γνώριζε πως ζούσαν οι τρίτες χώρες πολύ καιρό πριν μόνο που η τεχνολογική πρόοδος και κυρίως η τεχνοκυβέρνηση δεν αφήναν περιθώρια ελπίδας για βελτίωση.

Μπήκε στο ΤΥΟ431ΧΩ και παρήγγειλε μια σόδα στο μηχάνημα φωνητικής παραγγελίας. Αναγκάστηκε να το επαναλάβει δεύτερη φορέα για την πρώτη τον έπιασε σπασμωδικός βήχας την ώρα που μίλαγε με αποτέλεσμα η χαλασμένη τεχνητή φωνή να απαντήσει «Το κατάστημα μας δεν διαθέτει σόναρ κύριε…λυπάμαι αλλά η εξυπηρέτηση σας καθίσταται αδύνατη». Τσαντισμένος πέρασε την πιστωτική κάρτα –που πλέον χρησιμοποιούταν παντού- από το πεδίο ανίχνευσης και παρήγγειλε τη σόδα του… «Το υπόλοιπο του λογαριασμού σας δεν σας επιτρέπει την αγορά του προϊόντος μας»
-«Γαμώ το…ούτε για σόδα ρε γαμώτο. Άντε στο διάολο κωλομηχανάκι».
«Δεν είναι κατάσταση αυτή», σκέφτηκε. «Παρακαλούμε αν δεν παραγγείλετε κάτι να εξέλθετε του κέντρου αναψυχής ΤΥΟ431ΧΩ», ακούστηκε πίσω του η φωνή της μηχανής. Με αργά βήματα βγήκε στο δρόμο. Αναρωτήθηκε που να πάει…Στον αδερφό του; Χα, αυτός είναι πλέον στην υψηλή κοινωνία. Πριν από χρόνια ήταν στο υπουργικό συμβούλιο της χώρας και τώρα πήγε ακόμα πιο ψηλά. 

Ξεκίνησε να περιφέρεται χωρίς νόημα, χωρίς λόγο. Τα βήματά του τον έφεραν μπροστά στο παλιό του σπίτι, εκεί που ζούσαν όλοι μαζί κάποτε. Σαν οικογένεια. Κοίταξε ψηλά στο παράθυρο του 4ου. Ακόμα σπασμένο. Είχε σπάσει πάνω σε ένα καβγά, των γωνιών του όταν ο πατέρας του έσπρωξε τη μάνα του και εκείνη έπεσε απ’ έξω και σκοτώθηκε. Παρόλες τις καταγγελίες οι αρχές αγνόησαν το περιστατικό και λίγους μήνες αργότερα ο πατέρας του αυτοκτόνησε πηδώντας από το ίδιο παράθυρο. Αποφάσισε να ανέβει πάνω μήπως και βρει κανα ρούχο ξεχασμένο μετά την έξωση που τους έκανε ο ιδιοκτήτης. Η εξώπορτα της πολυκατοικίας ήταν ορθάνοιχτη παρόλους τους μηχανισμούς ασφαλείας που έκλειναν την πόρτα αυτόματα. Μάλλον είχαν διακοπή ρεύματος εδώ και χρόνια. Ανέβηκε τις σκάλες ως τον 4ο και θυμήθηκε που όταν ήταν παιδί ανέβαινε με τις σκάλες για να μαντέψει τι μαγειρεύανε οι γείτονες. Το μόνο που μύριζε τώρα ήταν σαπίλα και μυρωδιά από πολυκαιρισμένα πτώματα. Έφτασε στο διαμέρισμα του και είδε την πόρτα σπασμένη και τα πάντα βαμμένα με σπρέι και αναρχικά συνθήματα. Έψαξε όλο το σπίτι και βρήκε μόνο κάτι παλιές κάλτσες και χρησιμοποιημένα προφυλακτικά. Στο ντουλάπι του νεροχύτη στην κουζίνα βρήκε ψόφια ποντίκια και ληγμένες κονσέρβες. Πήγε στο δωμάτιο των γωνιών του…είδε το σπασμένο παράθυρο. Ήταν μεγάλο. Σχεδόν μπαλκονόπορτα. Τα κάγκελα είχαν σαπίσει. Τώρα που κοίταζε απ’ έξω συνειδητοποίησε πως το παλιό του σπίτι ήταν στα σύνορα με την τεχνοσυνοικία των πλουσίων. Ίσως με ένα καλό άλμα. Είχε γερά πόδια και ελαφρύ σώμα…Ήταν εφικτό αν πατούσε στα κάγκελα και πηδούσε με όλη του τη φόρα θα τα κατάφερνε. Το ενεργειακό τείχος ήταν μέχρι τον 3ο όροφο. Μπορούσε να το κάνει. Κόλλησε την πλάτη του στον τοίχο απέναντι από το παράθυρο και ετοιμάστηκε. Ξεκίνησε γρήγορα και δυνατά, σήκωσε το πόδι του και πάτησε στα κάγκελα, έβαλε όλη του τη δύναμη στα πόδια του, αλλά ένα κλάσμα του δευτερολέπτου πριν απογειωθεί τα σαθρά κάγκελα έσπασαν και άρχισε να πέφτει. Ακριβώς εκείνη την ελάχιστη στιγμή κατάλαβε γιατί ποτέ δεν πέρασε στη άλλη πλευρά… Σαθρές βάσεις…ΜΠΑΜ…Έπεσε νεκρός στη μέση του δρόμου…Αχ, αυτό το παράθυρο πατέρα….

And the translation, with a small disclaimer; The story was translated approximately 9 years later than the original, so even though I tried to be as loyal to the original, subtle unnoticeable -from me at least- changes will be there. I suppose every translation has the input of the translator, and even though the author and the translator are in essence the same person, I am much different than I was back then. In any way, the essence of the story is still there and intact.

Science Fiction Story

He scanned the Identification card for a second time from the appointed machine without results. The third time the door opened “Goddamn machines” he thought to himself, as the woman’s voice was saying “Welcome to the entertainment centre TYO431XW”. Every type of bar, cinema, club, café had been turned into an entertainment centre with code names in an attempt of the techno-government to destroy everything that had to do with the old, human nature of the world. Everything had been turned into machines according to the 321 fourty-something bill that aimed towards absolute security and elimination of every kind of fraud, be it financial, insurance company frauds, etc.

Due to that change, 92% of the population of the Earth had been rendered jobless, since every big corporation rushed to buy the flawless machines of the techno-government. Even the jobs that were more of social services had been replaced by machines. Priests roamed without anywhere to preach the word of God since He as well had been replaced by a CPU (Central Processing Unit) that performed its duty. Due to the flooding of machines an energy deficiency appeared and for the first time in global history that was a good thing, since the first two years millions of job placements opened up for the production of vast amounts of energy. Near the end of the second year a German scientist discovered a different way to process biomass that produced 70% of nuclear energy and was even safer than electricity. Immediately the people were fired and unemployment reached 95% of the world’s population. There were no good or bad neighbourhoods. The world looked like Paris did in November of 2005. Instead of cops the techno-government had commissioned a new device. Energy walls. They simply blocked every living thing from crossing them. The largest part of cities was ghettos with unemployed people. The rest of the cities were simply not yet covered with energy walls due to their slow production process. The people and every social group was getting to know how third world countries were living long time, only this time the technological advancements and the techno-government didn’t allow misconceptions about betterment.

He entered the TYO431XW and he ordered a soda into the automated ordering machine. He had to repeat his order because the first time around he coughed while he was speaking resulting to the machine’s broken reply “Our entertainment centre does not have sonars sir… I am sorry but your servicing is impossible.” Pissed off he scanned his credit card –that was being used everywhere nowadays- from the slot and he ordered his soda… “The remaining of your account does not allow you the purchase of the particular product”
-“Damn it! Can’t even get a soda. Go to hell you piece of shit for a machine”
“This is no life”, he thought. “If you do not purchase anything you are requested to exit the entertainment centre TYO431XW” said the voice behind him. Dragging his steps he went out on the street. He wondered where he could go. At his brother’s? Nah, he was in high society now. Years ago he was in the country’s ministerial council and now he had climbed even higher. He started roaming without purpose or destination. His steps led him in front of his old house. Where they all lived once. As a family. He looked up on the 4th floor window. Still broken. It had been shattered during a fight between his parents, when his father shoved his mother and she fell to her death breaking the window. Despite the reports, the authorities ignored the happening and a few months later his father committed suicide jumping out of the same window. He decided to go upstairs to look for any misplaced clothing left behind after the owner evicted them. The front door of the complex was wide open even though there were mechanisms in place to automatically seal the door shut. They probably had a power outage for years now. He climbed the stairwell and he remembered that when he was a kid he’d take the stairs to try and guess what the neighbours were cooking. The only thing he could smell now was rot and the smell of decaying corpses. H reached their apartment and saw the door broken down and everything sprayed on with anarchist slogans. He searched the whole house. The only thing he found was some old socks and used condoms. Under the sink in the kitchen he found dead rats and outdated cans. He went in his parents’ room…looked out of the shattered window. It was big, almost a balcony door. The railings were rotten. Now that he was looking outside he realised that their old house was bordering with the techno-community of the rich people. Maybe with a good jump. He had strong legs and a light torso…It was plausible if he stepped on the railings and jumped far he could make it. The energy wall was up to the 3d floor. He could do it. He put his back on the wall across from the window and prepared himself. He started fast and strong, lifted his leg and put it on the railings, pushed as hard as he could, bit a fraction of a second before he lifted off, the rotten railings gave way and he started falling. At that exact moment he realised why he never crossed to the other side…Rotten base…BANG…He laid dead in the middle of the street…Ah, that window father…. 

Δευτέρα, 3 Φεβρουαρίου 2014

[I am running out of titles - imagine what would happen if I posted more often than once every 6 months]

So I'm back in the UK demons and angels always with me, and I look back over the Christmas period where I went back to Greece for about two weeks. All I can think of while pondering on them two weeks is, I shouldn't have gone back I did not enjoy being there, although I met with friends and people I love and enjoy being with, I did not enjoy my time there. It seemed fake. It seemed as if I was meeting with people because that's what I should be doing, that's what people that are away and come back do, meet up. It felt I was going out because I'm only here for a couple of weeks, I should go out and enjoy myself. It just didn't feel the way I would have liked it to feel.

And here's my point; did "it" change or me? Or both, or neither but my perception of the "it" changed. If something changed, why did it change? Did I not like the change in itself, or the result beyond the change? So many questions and all I have is more questions to pile up. There were a few things over that break that I wish weren't there, like the revision I had to do and didn't do, that left me with a feeling of "you'll pay for this later" like a prolonged, delayed hangover after a night of cheap tequila, but one that hits you on a Tuesday after a Saturday night out, and lasts 'till next Saturday. Mind you I very much paid for it.

There were a few things that I quite enjoyed as well, catching up with an old friend, and feeling like the honesty of our relationship was still there, he's a friend that we've drifted apart, but he's also a friend that I feel no matter how apart we drift, it won't matter next time we meet, the important things will still be there.

What do I want to say here? Why am  I typing at four in the morning when I have a 9am class? Well mainly 'cause I couldn't get any sleep. Also because I haven't written in some time and every now and again I get the urge to write, even though I might not have anything to say. Ah who cares, it's not like this is the front page of the guardian.

I have this feeling that I'm doing something wrong. Something wrong with my studies, like I'm not putting as much effort as I should in them. I'm slacking, and I don't like it, but at the same time I'm not doing anything about it. I know this feeling. I've been there and I so don't want to go down that road again. Why am I verging on it again though? The situation is massively different this time around. Or is it? Maybe it's not THAT different. I'm studying, I have very little of a social life, I'm putting myself in a routine I can mindlessly follow and all of that is leading me to being depressed again.

It can fuck right off. I ain't getting depressed again. Fuck that shit. Once's enough. Oh, hello revelation, it might not be THAT different, but there it is, that ever so subtle difference. I saw it coming. Rephrase; I'm seeing it coming. That's why it's different this time around, I can see the depression heading towards me, or rather me heading towards the depression. Last time I had circled twice inside it before someone drilled inot my head I was depressed. Last time I had no clue. Not again. It can fuck right off.

Κυριακή, 4 Αυγούστου 2013

Ever-lurking loneliness

During vacations with friends and while reading a book by Francoise Dolto talking about loneliness, I realised a few things. For starters the quite easy realisation that you don’t need to be alone to be lonely. Easy, much talked about but very important for the points of this text. On a more refined note, this realisation makes a much bigger impact when it’s accompanied by another one; loneliness is a feeling caused by ourselves. No one can cause us to feel lonely. One can argue about the inaccuracy of the statement and attribute the loneliness we feel to a situation, or the people that surround us or circumstances. These are nothing but side-factors. The true cause is within ourselves. Fond as I am of examples here’s one; While writing these lines, I’m with friends in a beautiful home, one of them is sleeping, another one is doodling on a piece of paper and two of them are playing music. The type of music I don’t mind, and I quite enjoy when heard live, but nonetheless music I do not know much about, or have heard a lot of. Both of them musicians, are talking either about technicalities of the songs they are playing or just having fun playing songs they both know and generally having fun.
I am tone deaf, I have no rhythm and obviously I can’t play any musical instruments. I tried following the feeling, the climate of the moment but felt that I failed. I couldn’t follow on any instrument, I can’t sing, even if I could I wouldn’t know the lyrics and the music I very much enjoy is as far as it could be from what I’m listening to at the moment, but that is of little importance. The thing that matters is that I feel inadequate to participate, and this feeling annoys me, hurts me, and bugs me in my innermost self, into my very core.


Maybe I sound a bit too intense so I’ll load you with a bit of background. I grew up in a family of four people (that would be my immediate family) and six cousins. All of the cousins but one are musicians, or at least know how to play a musical instrument. My father has a deep love for music, which thankfully he passed onto me. I’ve always wished I could play a musical instrument and have had a few tries, which all either due to lack of discipline or due to the fact I didn’t actually like what I was doing, failed. I should also probably mention here that I’ve always felt that I let down my older brother by not learning a musical instrument as we could have spent hours upon hours playing together, writing shit, jamming or just talking about music on a deeper level. My brother has nothing to do with the feeling, it is purely mine, the only –in lack of a better term- “fault” I can charge my brother with, is being older than me, and naturally me looking up to him. So a desire to fit in was left a desire, it was never fulfilled. Which brings me to the intensity of my current feelings. They are that loud inside me because they bring up my insecurities, they bring up my “I wish I was more like them” side. I hate that side, its mean, angry and full of disappointment ‘cause it never gets what it wants. I feel left out, when I’m not. I’m between beloved friends and family, I’m in a place I love and enjoy being in and this feeling of inadequacy, of misfit fills me and stops me from enjoying the moment and not caring.

This brings me to my earlier statement; “No one can cause us to feel lonely”. I feel lonely, even though I’m between beloved people, even though I’m having a good time, even though I can honestly say I’m enjoying myself, I’m in a time in my life where I’m at the peak of everything I’ve ever done, yet a moment where my lack of –let’s call it musical talent for the sake of the argument-, a mere moment is enough to surface my insecurities, and make me feel belittled. Makes me wonder about the fragility of a psychological state.

Τρίτη, 2 Ιουλίου 2013

Where I lay my head is Home

After a bit longer than a week back home, I find myself thinking of the famous saying, in this case through Metallica's adaptation of it in Wherever I may roam. Well, I would like to think myself as an ever-changing, ever-adapting, unaffected by places or people, free from the worthless sentimentalities of nostalgia for good times person. I would like to, but I fail to. I can't. I apparently am not that person. 

I've come to that realisation since I left my home to go study abroad, and despite it not affecting me when I'm away, around new friends doing fun, interesting, boring, every-day, stuff it first crept up as a feeling from its shitty hole to bug me in mid to late June. Picture this; First year of uni is done, I've exceeded my academic expectations but more importantly I've progressed as a person and I've dug myself out of a hole that was keeping me from enjoying life. A year of such a psychological importance is at an end, I've now visited my brother and friends in the UK, I've had a meet with other friends that I hadn't seen in a long time, and I'm all up and great. Everything is beyond great, yet something bugs me, something I've recognised as one of the many demons I carry, much like everyone else does. I've recognised it but as expected I'm trying to deny its existence, I don't want to acknowledge its presence, because doing so, means I'll have to deal with it and I'd rather leave it for a tad later. Combined with the unfamiliar feeling of endless cloudy skies and showering rain through June, one of such persistence only the UK can offer, it finally got to me. Give in? Surrender to it? Let it pour my inner self and accept it? Nope; deny the fuck out of it. I don't want it there, it's messing me up, and it’s wrinkling my ideal year. Piss off demon, piss off!

Oh but it won't. I The demon knows what it’s doing and almost like a being with its own intelligence and sense of purpose it carries out its mission with relentless precision aiming straight to where it hurts more; my self-doubt. Fucker knows the game.

New picture; I'm in the plane flying back home, just took off and I'm looking down as the plane gains altitude, listening to music, gazing down on buildings, cars and people becoming smaller and smaller, I'm soaring back home. Soaring. I let my guard down for a fraction of a millisecond and the little demon does the trick, he's past my massive walls of denial, and they crumble down with the sound of my resigned realisation; I miss home. Fuck.

Wait, wait, wait! That's good, 'cause I'm going back home, for a full three months. It is fucking amazing that I'm feeling this way, I get to experience the closure of missing something and finally getting it. Nope. Shut up logic reasoning, this is feeling we're talking about, you have no power here! Logic - Feelings 0-1. I miss home, and I'm overwhelmed by feelings of joy ‘cause I'm going home confronted by feelings of disappointment for missing home. How do I expect to make my whole "study and probably end up living abroad" thing work if I miss home after just the first year, which was great as well? What if the year was fucked up? What if the uni was shit, the people were crap and nothing was great? What then? Well it wasn't so no point pondering over things that could have been but weren't. Logic - Feelings 1-1.

So I land home. Get the luggage, meet the people that are picking me up despite the late of the hour and head back home. Have a good night's -or I should say day's as it's six in the morning- sleep, rest and wake up refreshed. Meet with friends I haven't seen for too long, get together, talk, have fun and there it is; I shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am, 'cause I shouldn't have been missing this as much as I have been. Logic - Feelings 1-2. Damnit! Let me enjoy this you dick of a demon, go away! Nah uh, here to stay the little fucker.

And then, emotional revelation, out of fucking nowhere, out of the deep dark blue there it is; Acceptance. I miss home. So what? I'm supposed to. It would be stupid to try and deny the nostalgic feelings for home(duh!), it's where I grew up, where I built my life, where I became the person that took the decision to leave and find purpose elsewhere, it is part of me as much as my arms or legs. Feeling homesick is only natural. I'm not rationalizing this, in this argument logic lost before the argument even started, it had no place there from the start.

I feel the demon walking away, straight out of myself, peeking over his shoulder with a grin on its face, taking off his costume, pulling a halo out of his pocket, placing it over his head and then spreading his wings and flying away. My demons are my angels as soon as I accept them as part of me. Little fuckers. Logic - Feelings 1-3, just the way I like it.