I hate it. I hate my f****** values. I hate my damned self. I should’ve gone to hell, had I had the resolve…
So far, I bear two scars on my right arm. Not meant to kill, but reminders. One for each experience that made my heart ablaze with rage.
The first one taught me that trusting someone will get you used.
The second, that my values, being good, honorable…It’s all b*******.
It’s kill or be killed, it’s always been like that. Evolution ? Yeah, but at the core of the human being ? We’re still animals.
I’m weak, I’ve always been, and I blame myself for it. I can never stop blaming me for my own mistakes, nor can I forgive, nor can I forget…