I can imagine a bullet blowing through my brain. Destroying everything it touched. Every happy memory It would end Everything that makes me smile. It wouldn't be prejudice though But a bullet doesn't care about happy. It will obliterate every thing that makes me sad each and every thing that makes me depressed. Every memory of every line I've cut. Every comment someone thought I never heard. Every time my dad told me I was stupid. Every thought that I wasn't enough for anyone. Not even myself. Every memory of the times when I thought I'm to much of pussy to actually do it. Every thing that is wrong with me would be gone. Everything is right will be too. But it has so many more chances to end the things that are wrong with me that do make me sad that make me think I'm not good enough that make want to blow my brains out. So I figure I have less to loose this way. Would that technically make me perfect? If nothing is wrong with me and nothing is right then am I perfect? No I'm just dead.
