Translating the Storm

I am often hungry but whenever I reach the fridge, I remain in awe [an emotion variously combining dread, veneration, and wonder that is inspired by authority or by the sacred or sublime ~ http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/awe] of my lack of mood to eat anything from there.
It brings me a similar scent with this world and those who still dare to populate it. There is this dark atmosphere around me, smoke circles follow me into madness and I realize I am already in the eyesight of the storm. I have seen a show on my beloved Discovery Channel about a Romanian woman who had this huge 74kg tumor and she got operated by a doctor who is said to be the only one who managed to do this kind of operation [if you saw the show, fine, I don't care just don't tell me this same crap "I've seen this show too" because I care less].

They spoke of miracles. There are so many things that should make me be grateful, but so many that make me hateful. What I want isn't to grow green hair and wings. What I want is fucking possible. What I want is beautiful and uplifting and a fuel to my world. I'm like a car without fuel. But I am a car. I exist. I live and enjoy my life, enjoy its ups and downs, its desperation and bliss.

I enjoy the summer nights when the skin can be free and the sun, the forests, the rivers and mountains. I enjoy the daily routine because I have it, others don't even dream to open a PC and talk to friends all over the world. I am the winner and the abandoned. I fought, lost and won and when I failed, I made sure everyone failed with me.

But what I need is this miracle. This miracle that is so unrightfully demanded when it is so possible. Why did I speak of hunger in the beginning? It's same with love. You have so many options around you, to satisfy a nocturnal desire and yet you remain hungry. For honesty. I gave up commodity for insecurity. I am INSANE!

"Your kind can never satisfy my thirst."

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