And yet sometimes it simply takes over me...this strange sensation...the empty bowel and crawly feeling under my backbone and thighs...I cannot actually define it...I just know it makes me cry late at night or early with dawn when I'm finally alone with myself for a moment, under the warmth of the covers...I can't stop myself from thinking that maybe this isn't a feeling that "is"...but that it tryes to tell me something "isn't"...the butterflies aren't all sweet and peach skin soft...sometimes they scratch the inside untill you feel like growling...and you toss and turn and wrestle with it...but how can one fight an illusion?thin air?an impression or a dream?...you cannot ...at least you cannot through nowadays methods...we humans have lost that purity of soul that made our ancestors capable of proving such memorial feelings as honour, faith, selflessness...some way we have managed to forget that...yet the traces are still there and they exist ...whitch means that there is hope... it is maybe this ancient howl that cries in our ears late at night not letting us sleep...maybe it tries to come back, just like a memory we have fought to keep under for generations...and there is one more thing the world misses today...it is described as love...oh! what a waste, what an incoherence...how can we dare put it all in only one word...when all the complexity of the human mind and soul isn't capable of describing not even the thiniest slice of this starange material...and yet...the fade scent of faith and hope that still touch our senses from time to time have kept enough strenght to revive..if only a little..this feeling...only a little ...too much would be deadly...I have come to understand that we have not the intellectual, physical and soul strenght to survive such a profound desease..such a crushing blessing..such a thing...
So I sit in front of a mirror image of myslef saying this...it's there I know..all of it..it is just too weak to revive...too pale, malnourished and forgotten...supressed....the day we have locked up in the catacombs of our minds and chests theese indefinable feelings and ideals is the day we became mortal...and mortal we shall be untill the day our eyes close and our ribs rip our chests open...
