As I slept, visions of my mistakes spun through my head.
There were too many to count.
"You'll never amount to anything."
I looked over a wide expanse of a still sea as I stood on it. Across it, I found an old acquaintance of mine. IT was a black shadow and drifted toward me. I grimly looked down in submission. I felt IT's presence ahead of me and I flinched, expecting the usual routine. I was not disappointed.
IT began it daily routine of attacking me. With words, with knives, with every sort of weapon it had in its possession. I began to bleed, as usual. But it wasn't the physical wounds that hurt.
The words hurt more.
I jumped awake. I sat up and put my head in my hands and felt wetness on my fingers. Tears? Of course. I followed my daily routine at 2 AM. When I looked in the mirror, I noticed the bags under my eyes. This had been going on since the incident happened, and I was well aware that I probably needed some sort of professional help. But all the money I "earned" went to the nightlife at bars. I hate it. I hate my job and what I do in order to forget. But I need to forget.
My thoughts were interrupted by a notification from my phone. I scrolled to the message.
Unknown: Tonight, at 11 your target will be in the usual meeting spot. Don't be late.
I sighed. It's been a while since I had an opportunity to earn money. It's a filthy profession.
Murder.
I really am a monster aren't I?
Drunk Diary #3??
I went on another job today but I hated it. I hated the euphoria that came with murder I hate that I enjoy doing this. But I can't stop. This feeling of sadness and anger and just feeling something and the feeling of hating myself is what I deserve for being myself. I feel like I'm just done, done with the world, done with myself. I can't and will never find myself within myself and I'm not even making sense I'm drunkkdianf and i cant think strauight adsnfjud please let me redo my life let me forget the high i get when i feel the blood on my fingers pleasenkfwenguw
I cant do this shit anymore
YOU ARE READING
I Think You Think Too Much Of Me
RandomA person who is contemplating life in a way that disturbs others and disturbs themself. A young boy named _______ struggles to find himself, underneath all the lies and masks he's donned upon himself. Spoiler: he doesn't.
