For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to contentment. You thirst for something that you do not have. You yearn for things that you do not need. You are selfish.
You want complications to feed your imagination with inspirations that will make you write the things that you can’t put into words when you’re walking on a steady road. You think that your gift is also your curse. You need to sin, to hurt, to hate, to embrace what is forbidden, and to put yourself into shame to ignite that passion.
You let your weaknesses defeat you. You poison yourself slowly. You let your demons consume you. You refuse to experience satisfaction because you know that that feeling would end the pleasure of mistakes.
An epitome of a wretched lady. A poignant scene of despair.
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