two days to speak now. (:

I am horribly considering a partial translation of my cryptic story


Okay it shall appear.

A partial translation.

Full circle. The thought echoed through his head.
Strange, he had been gone a long way round and yet..still here?
He sat there alone, the radios and disc players around him silent. The music was gone. Again. Maybe that was the key. The radios and disc players.
He didnt want music. Did he. He wanted noise.
Suddenly the objects around him began to blur, and swirled around him. His view, shifting.
They weren't radios anymore.

Translation:

Dammit. Why is it like this. Again. Alone. Freak, all you people. None of you actually care don't you. Just when I thought I had finally found some people...good people...nope, none of you meant anything you said. All of you...not real.
Dammit thats all I want, sincerity, not polished bullshit.

Maybe you're just paranoid...maybe



He watched as he was encased in a box. A glass box, he peered at it and looked beyond.
He saw people, different people, all around, that old friend from a distant past, that figure that still haunted his nightmares, and her. Standing, lurking, doing all sorts of things. Some, knocking at the door to his glass prison.
A door.
He realized that it was no prison, but of his own making. And he wondered if he could trust this strange reality.

Translation:
Maybe its your own fault. You, drawing yourself away from others, keeping yourself away from everyone. Isolating yourself. Its your fault they left. Its your fault she..

Bullshit.

Maybe not..



And so if you can. Translate the rest yourself.
Zzt.