My life is like a horse on carrousel; constantly spinning, and no way off.Story of a man who died at a carnival; his spirit trapped in side a carousel horse, haunted by demons and other spirits.
. Might go up for adoption at some point.
what
Hope?
You don't know hope, my good sir. You have not seen the places I have seen. There is no hope in my world. You do not know the torments, the flames, the fire, and horror, the pain. There is nothing but torment where I am from, and you do not know nor want to know my world. You have no idea, sir, where I am from, and I would thank you kindly to leave it be. You will be the better for it, and my conscience will be clear. Leave. It. Be. You know not where you tread, and you know not where I tread. Do not pretend, do not assume. There is nothing here but pain, and pain you will have, if you pursue your endeavor here. I promise you, I think only for your sake, and that is a rarity here.
Lonely torment?
You have no idea. You think you're going to help me? You think you know what torment is? You don't know and you won't know. Red skies? Cold oceans? Little friend, it is clear, you have no idea, you know nothing, and in your lack of knowing you show everything about yourself. You, you are little. Little in every facet, every meaning, every nuance of that word. You cannot fathom, cannot comprehend, cannot even catch the slightest glimmer of anything that is where I am from. You are nothing in the world I am from, and I think I would not be incorrect to think you are nothing in the world you are from. You know nothing. Come back to me when you know. Come back to me, when you have ideas from within rather than from without. Come back to me, when you can give me the slightest notion, the smallest inkling, the tiniest twinge of comprehension, of even being able to accept and acknowledge anything beyond your world, your comfortable, small little bubble. You know nothing, and you are nothing, and you have not even the capacity to know. Trust me my smallest friend. I know this, with everything that I am, that you know nothing of what I speak. Do not speak to me again, until you have something of meaning to say. Until you know anything beyond yourself. Until you know, you are not worth knowing.