گوشه کنایه

give not thy strength unto women
nor thy ways to that which destroyeth kings

"قدرتتان را بدست زنان و راهشان ندهید، که میتوانند پادشاهان و پادشاهیشان را نابود کنند."

انجیل مقدس

Latley, ive increasingly have had the urge to write in english, which is wierd b/c id rather write in farsi. i think i should just expand my vocabulary. 8 years in canada have definitley taken their tole. (My dictation still sucks though, both in English and Farsi) I gave the blog address to a friend today , which is also wierd. the stuff in here is extremely private, and the only reason ive been writing them has been b/c i knew no one that i knew would read them. but at the same time there is something incredile about letting someone you know into your thoughts. to let them see the reall you, with all the disgusting details hanging out like dirty loundry. As writers we write to be READ. why else a blog? why not a personal diary, lucked away in the back of the closet under all the burried teddy bears and forgotten love letters? b/c im narcasitic enough to believe that my stuff is worth reading and is actually interesting. plus its always interesting to see people's reaction. the supprise on their face, b/c i definately suprise myself when i actaully read what i have written. the previous entery for example is quite violent and although it doesnt suprise me that i've written t, it suprises me how i actually feel about these people. i have kept trying to fool myself into thinking i dont care, just for the sake of keeping composure. but here, in this little planet of mine ive been allowed to let go...and I have

it is also interesting to get up to the minute recordings of my mental state during that period where i wrote in this thing every half hour.  the period where i was consumed in every aspect of the word and couldnt bring myself to get out. the period of self doubt and self hate. the perid of panic and the period of hurt. repressed anger and self pitty. And the most interesting is how long i tried to supress my vengefulness->tryin to guise it as pitty or shame. but there was nothing in me but pure anger, and the need to rape and ravage. the need to let out a scream, to break down and cry. the fact that i was not allowed such luxury, that i denied myself the public outcry of shame.

and it is intersting the transition of emotion. how easily self hate turns to anger, how easily does self shame turn to vengefulness. crying and laughing are basically the same emotions with different sounds

and so my dear blog, i will keep blotting you with my ink, so that i may get rid of this darkness that pollutes my mind.