Here’s a short piece of fiction I wrote. As I told my friends, I decided of late that I am tired of this “bloggy shit.”
I am at heart a fiction writer, a weave of tales, a creator.
It’s all back to my ‘why.’
Here we go. A short, dark one.
I am typing this now on my phone, on my bed. Filled with anger, yet sadness.
I don’t even want to get out of bed to use the computer. Yes, even I am too tired for that.
But whatever, by the time this note ends, my revenge will be complete.
Mom, dad, brother, cunts I have dated, teachers, friends who have been annoying and other random people I can’t even remember.
You all
Had it coming.
Just uou wait.
I am a lil nervous I must admit. But it must be done.
You know, not to sound too introspective here, but I’ve led a pretty good life.
Was that the right word to use? Introspective? Let me check.
Yup. It is.
Yeah anyway, I’ve had a pretty good life. But I can’t take it anymore. This emotional turmoil and mental destruction has reached its peak.
