Literature
Loose lips sink ships...
“You call me a naive idealist.
Someone who’s caught up in his hopeless, childish daydreams
Who builds castles out of sand surrounded by fantasy creatures, never spending even a tiny thought to the rain, that could wash everything away.
From one second to another.
Hopelessly optimistic and blind to all the shadows.
Too weak to see they’re existing.
Too weak to face them.
You miss one thing, my friend, I do see the storm, I feel the pain, all the agony like a pitch black abyss that consumes everything.
Anger, hatred, sorrow, desperation, jealousy, bloodthirst, revenge…
It’s not a weakness to watch out for someth