~Harpyie

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About Me Member General Digital Photographer HarpyieFemale/Brazil

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Life is just a tragic game. I don’t know how to be a good player and as week people always die first, because we already born dead, I go out from this game on beginning.

I have no energy to dispend with things that doesn’t bring me happiness, pleasure, peace. Yes, I would love life was a party! Am I a kind of angel? Am I a king of dreamer person? Am I just a foolish human? What Am I?

Why for me the real life can’t pass so softly as it pass for everybody? Why I feel every feeling so strong? Why is my love so intense? Why is my hate so intense? Why is my sadness so strong? Why the wings touch my skin so deeply? Why the terrible images of the life make me feeling so bad than the beautiful moments make me happy?

Why Am I not as every woman that feels themselves happy with new clothes, new shoes and new parties? Why shops aren’t the cure of my agony? Why for me to think about the worlds, people, and things of life is so dangerous?

I look at the mirror and I saw somebody I don’t know and it make me afraid. I walk and walk through my thoughts in searching for someone familiar and I just found this stranger woman screaming all her sadness and agony into my heart. I feel me consuming everyday.

I tasted the blood of her killed dreams; I felt the rotten smell of her striped hope; I touched by my hands of that purulent wounds on her life. She is screaming… I want to escape from her pain, but when I look at the mirror again, she cries, I cry with her. She calls for death and rest; I take the gun to my head. Who will short first?

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