i always hated on people who went to the gym. there is in fact something retarded of picking up heavy things, and putting them down all in the pursuit of being able to pick up heavier things.

that said, im loving it now that im really into it. i love pushing myself at whatever i do, this is no different. its like a game i get to play against myself. which is going to give out first, my body or my will? the answer is always body. i channel my hate into something constructive, and for some reason its gratifying.

holding on

if bringing the dead back to life is necromancy, what is it called when you’re trying to make the present the way the past was?

maybe it’s just melancholy.

there is no feeling like hatred. the rush of blood and sound as it pounds through you, and the cold hollow silence it leaves behind. it used to scare me, but the power it gives you is infinite.