Though neither of my parents ever told me this specifically, my upbringing has given rise to a conscience within me. That very same conscious screams and tells me that what I have done today was a grave sin, yet I had no option but to do it.
I tore up a book into little pieces with my own hands.
I know what I've done is wrong and pray to God that I never have to do it again.
[PS: Just to clarify, I don't feel guilty at my having torn the book, just extremely sad that I had to do it. And yeah, mixed with the feeling of sadness was an insane feeling of pleasure, that though it was such a difficult thing for me to do, I managed to overcome emotions and actually tear that particular book. The book that was torn was symbolic of events of the past which, though cannot be erased, must be shoved into the dark recesses of the mind.]
I tore up a book into little pieces with my own hands.
I know what I've done is wrong and pray to God that I never have to do it again.
[PS: Just to clarify, I don't feel guilty at my having torn the book, just extremely sad that I had to do it. And yeah, mixed with the feeling of sadness was an insane feeling of pleasure, that though it was such a difficult thing for me to do, I managed to overcome emotions and actually tear that particular book. The book that was torn was symbolic of events of the past which, though cannot be erased, must be shoved into the dark recesses of the mind.]
2 comments:
Hmm.. Wat made u do it?.. If I may ask...
..Me
rose: Anger always needs an outflow, and in this case it found an apt target. I won't mention what book it was or why it was targeted, but it had to be done.
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