Short Stories Collection

Unknown

Long or tortuous, pain is pain. Whether in the light of day or the shadows of night, pain can always be felt. We manipulate people then dump them once we’ve just healed them, then watch, smiling as their pieces come undone and the stitches are destroyed. Why do we do this, you ask? I answer that we are the human race, in all of our sadistic glory.

We're humans. We're human. Believe it or not, we're most likely the most sadistic being ever to be created. I'd say we're monsters... but that would be a huge understatement. I mean, look at us! We even hurt the ones we love, and for what purpose? To save our own skin? We hurt ourselves to make sure we still feel pain. We KILL others. Why are we this way? Because we're fucking human.

We kill. We fight. We cut. We're terrible, I know. I'm a victim of a human, and also a human myself. Just that I'm not a fighter most of the time, I care too much to be that cold-blooded. I'm a victim. A submissive, goddamned-broken victim. And why? I've trusted, I've fallen. I'm normal. Somewhat. I'm so fucking broken... what do I do?

I'm tired of waiting. But, for some reason, people still keep caring about my wellbeing. He'd follow, if what he said once upon a time still counts. I don't want that... my dad also once said that if he died, he'd kill himself. I guess he's yet another victim of lost love, to the ferocity of cancer right after his daughter was born.

What do I fucking do?! I don't want anybody else to suffer because of me, but if I leave I risk them following! I'm very much aware this does nothing. These are just black letters on a blank canvass, somehow painting without ever lifting a brush.

Long story short? I'm fucking losing control.

--I wrote this a year or so ago. While some of this may still be true to what I think I am no longer in this bad of a mindset.--