She speaks her mind whether there is, or there is not a need for it. It does not magnify her pain, or change the truth about her, or make true the lies that she manipulated you to believe. Nobody would ever understand the intricate web of complexities she has spun for herself. For this has never been about anyone else, it has always been just about her. So you may try to put her down with your laughter, but she cringes not from the pain of every word, or every strike, because she has long known how to survive through that. She’ll throw back every damn thing to anyone who challenges her, and her tears shall dignify her strength. This is her truth. And the truth she holds on to is the one she’ll never let go. Insanity you say. Is she the she-devil incarnate? Or the worst of your nightmares personified? She is just who she has always been. Crazy. Impulsive. Irrational. Unpredictable. Mad. Yes, mad. There had never been any need for anyone to point it out. The madness has always been a part of her, clawing away through the veils of her mind, basking in her dreams, feeding from her anger, and drawing strength from the passions of her heart. But does that make her any less than who she is? She cares less of what you think. She cares even less of what other people think or say about her. Because she knows who she is. And in her world, that is all that matters.
u moved me.Monday, November 15, 2010
whispers
There is a pleasure sure in being mad
which none but madmen know
Don't wish. Don't start. Wishing only wounds the heart. -Wicked
