“You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.”
— Ernest Hemingway
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I do what I want
Crying in the bleachers and I said it was fun
I don’t need anything from anyone
It’s just not my year
But I’m all good out here
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Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat.
I STARE AT THE SCENE, as if I’ve never killed before. A disturbing, mutilated sight. & yet I think I have managed to do worse. Don’t you remember eating your date, just yesterday? it’s all enough in this spiraling void; to watch this man’s face spill out on the floor. A police officer will get you life. That is … if they catch you. My hands pull my coat close, hopeful that there are no witnesses but myself. Oxfords scuff along the sideway, & I’m now standing before him.
My very first taste of bliss; I’d understand this moment. A sickening sensation of murder for the first time. I thought I was going to puke, when Paul Allen’s head split into two. Right upon my polished floor. Too much time spent scrubbing & disposing. I think I can do it again. I feel little compassion; you don’t make this an accident. A gloved hand meets the disheveled mans back, something sort of acknowledgement. I am quickly passing him by, getting a closer look at the beef stew.
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