Enigmatrix

The author is writing this post, sitting in complete darkness except for the light of his laptop in his room. He likes the darkness again. It has come to be in the authors life, that once again his set of rules of life have proven themselves to be steadfast and true. The happiness that he believed had come into his life, left as unannounced as it had come, leaving the author standing in the wreckage of a blown out party. Every moment he believed that his life had changed, every second he told himself that the next day would be better. He was playing with himself, twisting the dagger deep into his soul. When he realized it had all blown apart, that the party was over before it had begun. He once again felt broken, but this time he didnt fall, his knees buckled a little, he staggered a moment under the pressure of the broken dreams, but eventually his legs held and he went back to his old life, to the place where he had come from. Once again now, the author closes himself, picks out another mask, puts it on and watches the world, all emotions suppressed and hidden under that mask of coldness and under those deep green oceans of his eyes.

*The author does not care to cry or to hurt himself anymore, he justs walks the path with the others, but all alone.