ABBA is a mean deamon who loves Angel. He loves Paris and feels at home there. He has large brown eyes and black wavy hair. But he was not ready for someone like Angel. He did not know what to make of her. She was nothing like other women. She...
It has been a long day and a long time since I have written anything. I just don't feel up to it any more. My mind does not want to think of bad things but yet it does. I do not feel like myself any more. I don't know what I am going to do. I know everyone is wondering what is wrong with me. But I do not know what to tell them.
I have been busy and also depressed. Since everything has happened I don't know what to believe any more. I need help but how can I get it. I don't trust anyone. I need someone so I can talk to them and not be put down. I am keeping things from everyone and that is not very good for me to do. But when I talk they act like I have done something wrong.
They don't like it because I love someone they do not like. But it is not their business. They can't tell me who to love or who to hang around with. I can't tell the truth. If I did they would not believe me. I am having nightmares all the time.
Trap doors, candles dimly lit, castles, secrets, lies, and so much more. This town is not the same as neither is the people. People are turning against each other. There are nothing here but lies and secrets. It is like no one knows how to tell the truth anymore.
Death is part of me now and so is dying. I see graves standing alone and crows are all around. The grass is no longer emerald green. The path I am leading is dangerous. Yet I feel glory. I always feel like crying now like it will drown my feelings.
My house stays dark now like my soul. No mirrors to my soul. The doors are locked and I throw the key away to my heart. Blood surrounds me and creatures of the night. Yet I am not afraid. It is in my blood.
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