Living in a Perfect World

It's not something I tend to talk about, least of all write as a documented piece of information that could get me publicly and brutally murdered. But I've gotten to a point in my life where it doesn't matter anymore; where I don't care what happens to me, only of what doesn't.

I don't care if by tomorrow, I've been dragged out by those official bastards and strapped to a metal post. I don't care if, when attached to said post, I am slowly, but definitely surely, relieved of my internal anguish. And I certainly don't care that he said he truly wanted me to live my life as a brainwashed imbecile and to do so to my 'full potential'.

There's only one thing left, though, that I can say I completely care about. From wherever he may be, up, down or through, he will know that I saw through the lies. He didn't tell me what he wanted from me, instead he told me what he thought was best for me. Unfortunately, what he wanted from me is what I think is the best thing for me.

Revenge. Carlo wanted revenge. And now I want it too.