A lighting hitting the same place twice, A volcano ready to erupt, A big wave hitting the cliff side, A river running through mountains, A Fire in its pit, A blacksmith's hammer striking the heat off the steel, A rainbow in the rain, A thought before my sleep, A life after death, A natural disaster, that's what you are to me, destructive yet magnificent, terrifying yet mesmerizing, ugly yet beautiful, A natural disaster, that's what I simply say when I try to even slightly describe you, a beautifully natural naturally beautiful disastrous disaster, an arrow through my chest yet so far from my heart, a pain in my soul, where no medicine can help, an illusion, tricking me into thinking you're a swan in a beautiful white dress, a sparrow with a heavenly voice, a dream with reality all over it, A natural disaster my beloved, that's what you incarnated into, what you chose to reappear as, your essence, your truth, A beautifully natural naturally beautiful disastrous disaster.

The worst thing about talking is the fact words get lost in thin air, the worst thing in speaking out loud is that your voice soon gets annoying and what you were talking about soon gets boring, the worst thing about having a conversation is how easy it could be forgotten, the saddest thing to happen is to forget a conversation you liked, the worst thing to happen is to forget what words they used, the worst thing to happen is not remember in what order they arranged the letters, what combinations they used, what vowels they pronounced and what silent letters they left out, the worst thing to happen is to forget their voice the minute they leave, the worst thing to happen is not remember how their lips moved, not recoil how their teeth shined, and question whether their eyes glittered when they talked about something they liked, the worst thing to happen is to not be able to see their face again, the worst thing to happen is to finally tell yourself they're gone.

I tried to sleep but it's not working again, closing my eyes and waiting has never been this hard for me, pretending to be asleep til I actually am has never been this impossible before, how can I pretend with my eyes when my heart gives it away, how can I close my mind when it can't do anything but think about you, you. My suffering, my goal, my pain, my biggest and greatest achievement, my loved one, my hated one, you. It's all because of you, and you tried to blame me but how can I blame myself when I see no wrong in my actions, when I feel I've done you nothing of evil intentions, when I know in my heart I meant well, I can't. And if I can't then the blame is definitely not on me it's yours and I blame you My love, I blame you and I blame you again for leaving, I blame you for leaving me stranded on this island with nothing but a gun and one bullet, as if you had mercy on me that way, I blame you for leaving me with that "you'll find better" joke that stopped being funny the minute I met you, I'll find better? Will I find better? Am I gonna find someone who laughs at my jokes again? Am I gonna find someone who sees through me as I see through them again? Am I gonna be happy again? Am I gonna stop thinking again is it over already do I have to try again and again and again and again and again and again and again.? Do I have to try again? Yes, yes I do, because truth be told I live for these moments where I destroy myself, I live for the moments where I'm left broken, I live for the moments when they leave, cuz then I wouldn't be the bad guy, then I wouldn't be the heartless knight who tore through their heart, the ****** king who chose to betray his queen's trust, "the perfect other" who had imperfections, so thank you my love, my jewel, my piece, for leaving, for taking yourself away, for being braver than I, for making it easier for me to feel good about myself, no! thank you my love, for proving even perfection isn't enough, thank you for showing me even promises don't matter and thank you for letting me know why I hated love all along, thank you my love, thank you for leaving

Some pages are quite inked and some quite unwritten, some pages are quite torn and some quite perfect, some pages are quite missing and some quite there, some are quite ugly and some quite beautiful, indeed this book has all kinds of pages, all kinds of words and phrases, all kinds of events and happenings, yet this book fails to be a story, it fails to be a novel, it even fails to be a tale, but it fails not to interest me in every other way, not for the title of this book, not even because of the author no, but sometimes it just feels like I'm the hero of this book, times when we'd think the same thing, times when do the same things and times when we say the same things, what a stupid attraction to have, yet what a unique thing is to relate to ink and paper.

The hero's name yet to be known, the writer's intention yet to be seen, and their destiny's yet to be laid onto the stone, yet I read it every day, not caring for the world around me, whether it's been eaten in flames or devoured by ice, whether it's been thrown into the abyss or tossed down into hell, nothing could've distracted me from reading the new page of this book, this inked well written page that yet again pulls me even more towards this hero of theirs, I do wonder why does this author write only one page, but not enough to stop me from continuing to read a new page every day.

Maybe fate is the reason, maybe pure luck and chance, who knows? One thing I know is there must be a reason, a reason why this book feels strange, a reason why this hero is so real, a reason why those words are so true, there must be a reason, just like death has a reason for taking life, just like greed has a reason for wanting more, just like life has a reason to offer so little, and just like those reasons, this book's reason is yet to be known, I still don't find it in any page nor in any sentence, I tried to read between the lines, I tried to search for different meanings, I tried to see different words, yet nothing has changed, and so without a reason I lay here, holding this book of mine reading what the hero will do next, and waiting for the next page the next day.

A silly thing that is, to wait for the next page and not the next day, to wait for the next word not the next action, to wait for this hero and me, I forgot that ehat I'm reading is mere words, letters combined in a manner I don't even know about, drawings of a language so ancient that even my ancestors don't know how to decipher, but is it just that? I should know it is not, for I was the one to use these same words to make the ones I love happy, and for I was the one to use these same words to hurt the ones I hate, no words aren't just a simple combination, they aren't just a lost language of the old, they are my own keys to those people's hearts, my own back doors to to those people's brains and my own way to those people's souls, others use actions but in this world, my words speak louder, my shouts hit harder and my war cry is a scream of terror to those against me and a call of arms to those behind.

The waiting is the worst of all about this book, the anticipation of what to happen next, the feeling in your chest of the new tests you'll face, the new events you'll find out, the new ideas you'll get and the new actions your hero will do, nothing can get you ready for that and that is what bothers me the most, my strength is close to non against these words, my wits are not nearly as fast as theirs and my weapons are as if I used a stick to fight a sword of flaming steel, yet this courage, or foolishness, drives me to hold on, to fight their flaming steel with hearts of fire and souls of cold, to claim what once was and will be again my own, this book that I am, this hero that I am, this author that I am.

It's night time again, and I'm thinking about you, again. That's what makes me sad, you went from a new person to a known emotion and then you turned into a forgotten memory, not even a whole memory you're fractured, broken into small pieces that my brain can't put together, therefore I remember your smile but can't remember how I made you laugh, I remember your tears but god knows I don't know how I made you cry, I remember your voice but it seems to me like you never said my name, because that memory is gone, along with your eyes color, haircut and chubby cheeks, along with the shape of your hands the step of your feet and the way your chest breathes, along with the way you say I love you and the way you hug me, all gone, but unlike the others you didn't leave your place empty, no you were kind enough to leave behind new memories, I now remember the way you scream, how your frown boldens your eyebrows and how your voice gets louder when you argue, I now remember how you like to hold things and throw them outta anger, or how you laugh then cry then scream then get silent all in that order, yeah you were kind enough to leave me those behind yet I can help but to wish you left without any gifts to remind me of you, I wish you just left like the rest, no heads up, no idea how to tell me, no clue why, you see I used to hate that, the way they leave without telling like I'm a child whom family don't want but now I understand it's mercy, mercy because after awhile I forget, after a while I forgive, at least after a while I understand, but your kindness still leaves me with hatred towards you, or myself, your kindness still leaves me with regrets, your kindness still leaves me with what ifs
What if I apologized
What if I treated you better
What if I was better
What if I screamed too
What if I was worse
What if I left first
What if I left first
What if I left first, what if I left without a notice, without a letter, without a text, what if I packed my blue jeans, my white shirt, my toothbrush and just left, what then, would you understand I did it for the both of us, would you understand I had mercy, would you understand I cared about you even as I took those last four steps through the door, those one, two, three, four steps that got me out of your life, something is always funny with how easy it was, one, two, three, four, that's all took, yet I'm still afraid of those four steps, I'm still hurt you walked those four steps, did it feel as easy as I thought it would be, did it go one two three four? Or did it go something more like four. Four. Four. Four.? Did you want to leave as fast as you can? Did you doubt yourself at the second step? Maybe third? What about the last one? No? Of course not what am I thinking, because if you did you'd still be here, leaving new memories, but you're not, you're there, there where I can't see you, hear you, or remember you, you're there, and I'm here, and that's far away from where we were.

I'm done, I'm finished, I'm over it I am I truly am I have to be, because you're done too, because we're through, because you truly are, so I say I'm done, if my friends ask I say I'm done, "oh yeah we're not a thing anymore.. Yeah I broke up with her " but we all know it's a lie, but I'm done, I definitely am done, I definitely don't think about you before I go to bed, I definitely don't think about you on my way home, no I'm definitely done yes that's what I have to say, I'm done, just as a lion is done eating meat, just as the devil is done playing with my mind, just as a book is done with words or a sky is done with raining or the sun done with shining yes I'm ******* done! I'm done looking for a straw in a stack of needles, I'm done looking for what I read in a romantic novel, I'm done doing everything based on the movies I've seen, I'm done using the words I learned from my favorite video games, I'm done assuming my princess in distress is waiting for me for I am no knight in shining armor, no sir, I am done falling for your tricks, I'm done playing your games, I played them before and now the devil holds my soul, it was stupid to bet on my soul for whatever I thought I had but my was it worth it, for it taught me the lesson I needed, a lesson I should've learned a long time ago, a lesson learned too late, and so, before I lose what little I have left I bow to your generosity, I thank you for your passion, I admire you for your mercy, for I wouldn't have shown you the same, I wouldn't have taken the time to teach you how you weren't my last jigsaw piece, I wouldn't have taken the time to show you where you went wrong and I definitely wouldn't have taken the time to write my goodbye letter, no I wouldn't, I would've said I'm done, done with being in love with you, I would've said I'm done caring about you, done with all of you, but you beat me to it, you pulled the trigger first, you decided for me, you chose my future and you were already done, so I find myself, on a bus seat, on my way home, thinking about you and I then repeat the lie I have to believe, I'm done

I wish I can sleep the madness away, it's irritating, the thought keeps getting bigger and bigger and my breathing gets heavier, my wrath is not that of a God's, mine is of a less mightier feet, my madness is human, yet with no bounds, the more I think about it the more I'm mad and the harder I tried to stop thinking the harder it is for me to stop, I wish I can sleep the madness away because I don't like who I am when I'm mad, I don't like the dark hallways which I walk alone, not because I'm afraid of walking them alone but because I'm afraid I wouldn't wanna get out of them, my heart decays into its former glory as dirt and my bones to ashes, what once was and will be, what I am, nothing, that's one of the thoughts I have when I'm mad, that's what is making me even more angry, the black single hole in the center of the wall which shouldn't be there, the slightly tilted painting in a silent museum, the nightmare before you even Close your eyes, the irrational train of thoughts you have never stopping where it needs to be, why do I think of these things why am I still mad why is it still bothering me why did I do so little Why am I so mad why can't I sleep the madness away, why is it easier for me to write my sorrows in a bottle and throw them to the ocean, see them sink and then resurface again, swimming unto what I can never reach, my what a wonderful sad view, I wish I can sleep the madness away, because life  is life for the good and bad yet I can't handle the bad, just as an asthma patient can't handle smoke, a kid can't handle a bottle of Jen, and a sky can't handle the skies, so I wish I can sleep the madness away, but I know I'd only delay it away

Blue skies, yellow sun and a faint brush splatter of clouds around the canvas, a bit of green and more blue for the rivers and fields going and twirling around, and a few grape trees climbing a red-brick broken down house, sometimes that's response to what's the most beautiful thing I've seen, but take a new white canvas and hang it up high, throw some orange around a bit of green, let the brown slide down to a soil of green and brown then put me under that tree, let me look at the grey clouds all around the sky hiding all the colors, maybe this is the most Beautiful, although, if we take a new canvas and wait for a bit to take the white in, then hold a bucket of purple and throw it full, maybe that's what is most beautiful, I don't know, my opinion about what's most beautiful always changed, maybe because the blue and yellow don't mix well, maybe because the grey adds some shade to the orange, maybe because purple is my favorite color, or it's probably because I haven't seen the most beautiful thing enough, but I do try to look at you as much as I can.

A tap of his fingers, a blink of his eye, a slight move with his legs that can take away my soul and let me to die, a beautiful scenery I'm blessed with, yes it is I in the mirror.