- A monologue by crimsonterror

I despise this webpage now; the entire site seems somehow cursed. However, I know that it is not a fault with the website, rather a 'fault' in myself. Through my own actions I have made this a painful place. Furthermore, I never quite got the hang of this thing. Poetry will never achieve a great popularity or gain a person any pageviews. Yet it is no less important than photography.

I think through that realisation one can turn to look at so many other things in life. The key point is that the things that exist in this world are neutral until they come into contact with mankind. As I mentioned, this site was simply a website when I joined years ago. Yet through my own interaction with it I have seen good and ill come of it. Furthermore, even though I sit typing this and contemplating the complete negativity of deviantart, I remind myself that if it wasn't for this site I would not have had some of my experiences and I would have nowhere to waffle on about my own corrupted philosophies! Rather strange.

If one examines the past journals of mine, or anybodys, they can see all this; nonsense alot of the time, yet the words I have written, as other people have, hold tremendous power. I undoubtably have said things that upset people, or cheered people. I am also sure that many people will look at this and think of me with disdain for the futility of my writings, but still the words have had an effect. Likewise, I have read many things on this site, and elsewhere of course, that have offended or cheered me or affected my emotions in any number of ways; again we see words with effect. With the knowledge of the power of words it is sometimes remarkable that people write at all for fear of the change they will cause.

Perhaps I have waffled enough now and I can add more personality to what I am saying. A friend of mine and I had a fallout. I said things. They said things. It was rather a mess. No more was said for a matter of days. I felt the need for closure and sought for it, however the opportunity presented itself to me. We talked quite briefly, apologies were made and it seemed that a new friendship would grow from the debris.

I knew in my heart that I should never come on to this page again, because returning here usually results in pain. Funnily enough, that pain usually comes in words. My friend has written things about me. Simple letters, formed into simple words. These things were written before we were reconciled and I imagine before the flames of anger had been extinguished, yet they are no less hurtful. Had I never come to this site again, or even months down the line, I would not have considered these words, obviously. Worse, perhaps, is that I already imagined that my friend had thought of these things and finding evidence for it is painful. So much of the scaffold of my life is now loosened further and is slowly collapsing.

Yet that is it. I feel nothing more than pain and regret that I have seen these words. Somehow, I am not angry, as perhaps I should be. I do not feel betrayed. I do not feel ridiculed or outwardly upset. Simply grim and sad. Part of me believes that it is better now that I know the things I know. Still, the power of words.

If my friend reads this, I wonder what they will think. I hope that it will be as emotionless a read as it was a write. One last thing, because I have not the courage to say it to my friends face I will say here. With them I have had so much fun and so many happy times, I have laughed and cried, I hope I never forget them. That is all.