december 29. the fatal axe-stroke on a life already so maimed

to hate oneself is to think about oneself almost as much as you would when you love yourself. it's like saying you've separated from the person you used to be, watched yourself from a distance, judged yourself, and thought about yourself when you're awake and dreaming. it's even tearing your pillow when you remember you're still alive. people who do things for self-love don't usually go through so much trouble to harm themselves, i think. to really hate oneself, you need to love someone else. deep self-hatred is like a counterbalance to deep self-love. so, who can you hate, yourself, when you don't want anything from yourself?

hatred in me is like love, a vague, undetermined feeling which seeks to settle on something and fails to do so. i carry the weight of both love and hatred inside me, a feeling for which i don't know how to find an outlet. if i can't find a way to spend either of them, i'll burst like a bag filled with so much money that its seams break open. oh! if i can hate myself, if i humiliate myself so much that the venom of a cold snake starts boiling in my veins and wakes me up from a sleep with a death-like state. if only i cut my cheek with the teeth of my mistakes and surrounded myself with my own poison and danger. if my own death becomes life for me, if the last heartbeat under the weight of my own footsteps brings joy to my heart, and the smell of my own blood is sweeter than the scent of flowers for my thirsty nose. how fortunate i would feel to abandon my love and consider myself happy!

then death will embrace heavily, much like a tiger tearing apart its prey, a snake crushing life within its coils, an elephant trumpeting with a heartbeat crushing a chest, venom from snakes, extracted from a plant, numerous sharp blades from a knife, for me, it's time for blooming flower petals, moist kisses, and the embrace of love!

i said i don't want anything? now i fear that maybe i want something. and a thousand times better than hating is to love in a way that i feel. i have now received that beauty in the dreams i have spent so long in. my shadow has turned into reality; i have seen her; she has spoken to me; i have kissed her palm; she is a living being, not an illusion. it was good to know that i couldn't be wrong, and my predictions were never false. yes, i stand here with the dreams of my life; this is my room, and she lives there. i can see the fluttering of the curtain and the light of the lamp from her window. her shadow just fell on the windowsill, and in an hour, we will have dinner together.

those famous middle eastern eyebrows, those clear, deep eyes, that warm shade of pure white amber, long, shining black hair, as delicate and sleek as a creature, a nose so delicate and pointed, wrists and ankles, feet and hands, beautiful and submissive like parmigianino's paintings, curves of anticipation, a perfect oval face that makes the head so constant and regal, i have searched for all of this, everything that i would be grateful for if i had found it, and i have found everything in one person.