Self pity is easily the most destructive of the non-pharmaceutical narcotics; it is addictive, gives momentary pleasure and separates the victim from reality.
When I was a child I truly loved:
Unthinking love as calm and deep
As the North Sea. But I have lived,
And now I do not sleep.
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They watch on, evil, incredibly stupid, enjoying my destruction.
'Poor Grendel's had an accident,' I whisper. 'So may you all.
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Art, of course, is a way of thinking, a way of mining reality.
So childhood too feels good at first, before one happens to notice the terrible sameness, age after age.
Talking, talking. Spinning a web of words, pale walls of dreams, between myself and all I see.
Dreams I I See Myself Pale