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It is I but I am not it

It started with a cry that shattered a heart into million tiny pieces. Shards which reconcile quite easily despite the fact. Although the impact that drove the other malleable hearts into deep freeze woke up just before the big departure, it still left a sour influence in the tongue. The like of which that would most likely haunt forth and linger throughout their entire pilgrimage and banter. Times like these are a tough nut to crack. And I am in the middle of it and loving it.

Schadenfreude. Tell me I'm cuzao, if you insist. The pleasure derived from the experience taken from the earlier demise was the thing I was waiting for all along. The reassurance for something I seemed to have longed for and forgotten. The misfortunes of others aren't for me to create but to blame me for my apathy would be entirely absurd. I was but an audience. I was but a bystander. The weight of the burden is fun enough to watch when the bright figure from the highest platform begins its own self-detonation. Not by any means warranted but provoked, not by any means intended but is forced by necessity. It should have been easier to swallow after one has toppled over but funnily enough the numbers soon moved up in rankings, which was all sorts of ecstatic.

It is not without saying I have never combusted internally myself, but mine was of a different nature. My whim is of a different level all in all. The sly, defensive, conniving type. The greatest performer I have ever come across, which is something I envy the most in all levels. Me and my whim are of two different categories, the conflicting, bipolar and the calm, quiet poetic. These two entities barely like each other, much less comfortable being in the same rhythm in space and time. One has to remain at the baseline at all times or risk being a vegetable in all aspects of metaphorical caricature, which has always been the case for both energies. The manic and depressive, not necessarily good and bad, light and dark kind of relationship. One can be an advantage and disadvantage at the most inopportune moment. I have wrecked a million hearts, including my own, through wrongful judgements and brash deductions.

Rightfully so to disavow these deeds are not at all necessary and mandatory, but by will of the ego. It speaks and I listen. It whispers and I zombify. It performs an inception into myself and I stand alone in the corner, ever so prepared to say 'yes' to every single thing it allows me to. It is I but I am not it. It is it because... well, it's just simpler that way.

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