write everything down - it won't guarantee that history will not repeat itself, but it's the only way you can remember to be true to your dreams...

"You do me a great service, Mein Freund."

I put my hands together, the left capping my right fist, and smugly I let them hover just under my chin as I looked to the right, away from his eyes. A pool of mixed emotions rolled in my mind. Once calm, now a raging whirlpool of torment and misery. I looked to the right, as if talking to myself I said "Yes, I did it." to answer his question to me...

"I see..." he said in what could only express some obvious fear, but more so, it was a tone of disappointment.

I sat squatted on the ground, as I always have, maybe much like a frog, balancing my upper body only by the sheer strength of my calves, the back of my thighs were touching the back of those calves. It was comfortable for me. Incredibly, wonderfully comfortable.

I refused to look back, but I did anyway. When i saw his face, my confusion and uncertainty was immediately replaced by defiance, by rage.. a swirling whirlpool of anger and hatred. How dare he stand there so proper and right, standing over me, judging me with those eyes, making me feel inferior to him. The self eating rancor drove its teeth into my heart and wanted me to scream. How DARE you make me feel guilty; HOW DARE you expect me to follow your rules; HOW DARE YOU manipulate me. Who are [YOU], you who think that you can JUDGE ME and tell me what's right?

I could stand up and kill you right now, I don't have to justify anything, and you would fall.

My mental spasms and self interrogation was cut short when he looked at me with a blank stare. It wasn't a condescending stare, it wasn't an angry stare. It was just a simple visage that said, "What's that look?" he said as he faced me and I faced him.

I tilted my head to the side again in frustration. I didn't want to explain the anger in my heart, and I didn't feel like I needed to justify my actions when 'I did [it].' So instead, I said to him, inquisitively, calmly, "What does it look like?"

he replied...

"It looked like [sadness], your majesty."


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