An anti-government protester is engulfed in flames during clashes with riot police outside Ukraine’s parliament in Kiev, Ukraine, Tuesday, Feb. 18, 2014.
…..Pardon me while I burst…into the flames. I’ve had enough of the world and it’s peoples mindless games. …
Then the feeling moves on. It does not collapse; it is not whisked away. It simply moves on, like a train that stops at a small country station, stands for a while, and then continues out of sight.
life is merely terrible; I feel it as few others do. Often—and in my inmost self perhaps all the time—I doubt that I am a human being.
I am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and I thought people would see it because ‘romantic’ doesn’t mean ‘sugary.’ It’s dark and tormented — the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you can’t attain.
How do you take it upon yourself to call someone a masochist ? What do you base this off of ? Not to mention i don’t share details of my life with many people. If I’m a masochist, you’re just silly.