They call me a demon, sure I'm but.... perhaps, with broken wings or wounded, let's say.

I open my laptop and start writing as if I really have something worthy, to share. Augh! spare the self-loathing Azura, ("Azura" Yeah that's gonna be the name you guys knew me with. I mean, you know my real name already but I would be happy if you remembered me by my nickname.) I know I don't write something knowledgeable but people or say some of the few people who read my blogs like whatever it is called that I write. And I am not writing to impress anybody or to run a lush, perfectly organized blog page. I write because I need to,  if I don't type the words on paper, they'll not let me breathe properly.

Over the past few years, I've become more "mature" in the eyes of people obviously, for me with every passing day it feels like my soul, and my heart are getting tainted more and more. And I'm damn sure it's the same for you because you know bad guys and bad times are all the same. So I want to write it in a way that when you read it, it feels to you like straight out of your mind. 

It sounds fancy, right? Pitch black, demonic, emptiness, and social media have made these words so fancy and so-called cool that we forget the terror and weight they possess.

But you know what ironic is? I don't feel like God is angry with me because of my impurity. He felt close, more like a friend to me now. 

Probably because He is the only one who has truly witnessed my pain. I am happy to have this faith that He's with me.