Hard hard life is hard. As hard as writing these sentences with pen. In the morning.
Anger. Anger. Hard life incites angers. Anger that makes my head hurts. Anger that makes me sick. Anger that makes me want to run away. From every thing. From every one.
Hard hard life makes me want to leave every body behind.
Alone is always easy. The loneliness doesn’t make me feel lonely. No, it’s not because I know that I have someone to get home to. Neither does it happen because of God. God makes every one confuse and calm and confuse.
Faith. What the hell. Without faith. Go to hell.
Fuck.
I hope after life is nothing more than a tale. A tale to keep the weak and poor alive, hoping that their good deeds will somehow let them enter a place with no sorrow. A paradise they say. A resting place after a hard hard life.
Fuck.
I hope I’ll just die then decomposed. But yeah, it’s only because I don’t want to go to hell. After a hard hard life. See. I have no faith, but I can still hope.
No faith. No heaven. Even if you have faith, you still may not be able to go to heaven. Put your faith in the wrong hand, then hell is waiting.
FUCK.
The harder the life is, the more fucked up you are.
Nobody dies a virgin. That’s why people want to go to heaven, where they get to meet 70 virgins each. To be fucked.