We were born to die.

Blogging is recommended to war veterans  suffering from post-traumatic disorder.
-And now again, this is a reflection of my emotions, not a single fact.
-I guess I want to achieve the same thing, like those veterans. I don't suffer from any major trauma, I didn't kill anyone or see anyone die. But


Don't make me sad, don't make me cry
 Sometimes loves not enough when the road gets tough
I don't know why
 You're making  me laugh,
 Lets go get high
Road's long, we carry on
Should you have fun in the meantime

-Lana again surprised, cheered when needed.


I am exhaustated, devastated.
Yet I feel very alive.
I don't think I can no longer continue giving my best, without getting any recognition, any appreciation.
I've had enough failure.
I like pushing to the limit. But I've been pushing to the limit just a little more than I can stand.

I need to be comforted.
That's what people who love you do, don't they?
Well, does nobody love me then?
Or is it just a thing those who love you don't do?

There are many mistakes I've made.
The good I've done pales in comparison, though there's more of it. It's simply less memorable.
Good is less memorable.
You don't get known for the rules you follow, but for the rules you break.

Simple, primitive even. But very vivid and graphical.