When you are not willing to suffer and sacrifice for long-term gains, you lose my trust.
The pack cannot rely on you. You are not fit—physically, intellectually, emotionally. In the hour where demons screech in strange voices and monsters intently glare at us with glowing us, you'll fold.
You don't know how to endure.
You've always avoided the dark and ugly. Comfort invites you with her arms open, and you run into her embrace, like a little child who dearly missed her mother.
Comfort rubs your head and tells you to treat yourself kindly. She tells you, "Look at how far you've come."
But you know better. You know your sins. Why do you let comfort sing her charming songs?
You delayed the things most deserving of your time and energy.
Your heart housed vile thoughts, your body deprived of tribulations.
Nonetheless, when comfort smiles up on you, you linger in her care.
Perhaps you've given up on yourself irreparably. You'd rather delude yourself and think you're doing well rather than face the bitter Truth.
Truth is the burning light.
Truth wounds your pride: it undresses your soul for you to see all the wrong things you are.
You'd rather comfort's kisses than Truth's scoldings.
A weak person can never be loyal, even if he wants to.
You're too weak to overcome your lust.
Too weak to admit the envy and anger poisoning your blood.
You're too damned weak to delay sweet pleasure in favor of sour pain.
How can you ever be trusted as a loyal partner?
You've done great disservice to your body, to your heart, and to your soul, and yet you harbor ill feelings toward me for rejecting you my trust, and my love.
#small_words
The pack cannot rely on you. You are not fit—physically, intellectually, emotionally. In the hour where demons screech in strange voices and monsters intently glare at us with glowing us, you'll fold.
You don't know how to endure.
You've always avoided the dark and ugly. Comfort invites you with her arms open, and you run into her embrace, like a little child who dearly missed her mother.
Comfort rubs your head and tells you to treat yourself kindly. She tells you, "Look at how far you've come."
But you know better. You know your sins. Why do you let comfort sing her charming songs?
You delayed the things most deserving of your time and energy.
Your heart housed vile thoughts, your body deprived of tribulations.
Nonetheless, when comfort smiles up on you, you linger in her care.
Perhaps you've given up on yourself irreparably. You'd rather delude yourself and think you're doing well rather than face the bitter Truth.
Truth is the burning light.
Truth wounds your pride: it undresses your soul for you to see all the wrong things you are.
You'd rather comfort's kisses than Truth's scoldings.
A weak person can never be loyal, even if he wants to.
You're too weak to overcome your lust.
Too weak to admit the envy and anger poisoning your blood.
You're too damned weak to delay sweet pleasure in favor of sour pain.
How can you ever be trusted as a loyal partner?
You've done great disservice to your body, to your heart, and to your soul, and yet you harbor ill feelings toward me for rejecting you my trust, and my love.
#small_words