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    Яαgιи Яαvєи
    Cairo, Egypt
    Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer, and then you'll notice you've got their strict attention.
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Tapping at my chamber door

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Dearest of all my friends,

Ding, Ding, Ding...

Most of the people in this room know that I always prefer starting my sentences with the ever magnificent English appetizer...


I'm tired of chasing you away. It just hurts to have it come from the very person I'd like to speak my mind out loud to. I'm done. Fuck it!!

It's always been a hobby of mine to try and find new words to express my fears, my regrets, my redemption, my prayers, my sins, my hopes. It's been a hobby to try and come up with new and improved different vocabulary to use on my vast collection of suicide notes, notes that I disguise amidst my poetry and BLOGS! Words that could further explain why is it that I really need you there with me on this dark, scary road. But today, dearest of all my friends, I'm lost of words. I need you to lend me some. I look down your backpack for As and Ds and words and songs and friends and cries, only to find that everything down there was actually mine. You're no use to me anymore. Farewell and goodbye, dearest of all my friends.

I need words. I want to claim back my mind. I want my feelings to be real. I want to sound like my old self again. Where the fuck are you, o tarnished halo? I seriously… need words. I need words that could help me describe this indescribable sickness that I'm having right now. I am lost for them. I need to sit laid back on my ever huge throne and stare at that glass of piss sitting at the edge of the arm of the throne that still gets questioned whether it's half full or half empty. I guess it's my call to make. If it's half full, or half empty for all that matters, then have I been drinking it? Or have you been sipping from my glass, sucking my own blood? One sip after another… until there's no more piss to drink.

Well, dearest of all my friends, I need my piss to survive. It's the one thing that kept me alive in the desert. That wasn't holy water that rained down on me from heaven. That was pure piss that you've misread.

In the end, if you still need to follow my shadow, feel free to do so. But it won't be my shadow that you'll be following, dearest of all my friends. It will be the blood trail that I leave behind, leaking from the wound you've created inside my heart.

Cheers, mate.

More often than not we find ourselves too attached or too admirable of certain people that we find it perfectly ok to claim them and their ideas as our own...this is all done without conscious awareness.
It's really important to set clear limits and maintain a notion of the "self" vs. "others".
Preserving one's own identity is way more important than having a close friend or even a soul mate.
If the ideas were involuntarily seeping into one’s subconscious and if it happens often then there’s a problem and it’s lack of originality. One must stop and review what he/she says and when credit is due, credit should be given. There’s but a thin line between similar mentalities and plagiarism. It’s flattering at first but it gets frustrating after a while, it may even lead to the termination of strong friendships or relationships.

Wa domtom

I agree. I'd like to think of this BLOG! as a sequel to Lurking... It's a piece about all kinds of betrayal that we get to face unwillingly every once in a while.

Personally, I think to lose trust in somebody is the only feeling that can never be fully expressed.

I needed a lot of words to write that piece.

we really need to comment this one when we'll chat
i think that i'll reply this piece on my blog ater our talk

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