She was running late. White door closed, and I, her willing victim seated outside, waiting for whatever was on the other side.
What was this one going to be like? I had seen so many. Tall, short, young, old, it didn't matter to me. None of them helped.
But still I kept trying. Trusting in the system that kept on failing. But I knew failure. I wasn't scared. Failure may come as a relief. But only if I can't keep trying to succeed. I refuse to buy into that crap.
So I made my choice. That I will keep trying. One shrink after another. To try and get better...
Whatever that means...
YOU ARE READING
Fluffy Bunnies
Short StoryFluffy Bunnies! This book is not about fluffy bunnies, but suicide. Every tiny, insignificant about that terrible and irreversible word. I'm going to let you inside the mind of someone who is/has/will commit suicide. This is a bunch of short stories...
