"Ravens." I said to the her.
One thing could only describe the emotion of uncertainty in the sky looming and calling before me.
Ravens cawing in the distance.
But ravens were beautiful and she could not understand.
I left that morning into the cold mountains. Crunching dirt
and souls into the earth.
Pushing down my resentment of myself with fervor, I followed
the ravens for years.
I saw where they lived, where they traveled, where they
I dreamed with them.
The raven... darkness, beauty, confusion.
Ravens were all there ever were for I, so pathetic.
Annoying, disgusting, ugly.
I threw my fist at them, and they paid no attention.
Ravens were like anyone else. I was their monster, haunting
them, threatening them... calling to them.
Everyone and everything is someone's or something's villain.
"Villains" I spoke, enlightened too late.
They were much wiser than I, because they paid no attention to
their monster, their villain, while I followed mine with
unrivaled obsession. Letting it destroy my life.