Priority
His heart doesn't beat for you.
The girl winced, tightening herself into fetal position.
It beats for someone he gave it to long ago.
"No it doesn't," she whispered.
But it does. His heart never beat for you.
The girl's eyes grew wide. "But what do I do?"
Choose her or choose you.
She nodded, pulling herself into an upright position, her arms still wrapped tightly around her knees.
-----------
There is no insanity. There are no disorders. Things are random. Imperfections are normal. Some are more pronounced. Some are wrong, but only by our standards. There is no right and wrong, there is only common law.
And I knew when the voices started in the back of my mind that I was smarter than I thought. But not me. My subconscious. An entirely different persona lurked behind closed doors at the end of my mind. It knew everything I had ever learned. It remembered every face I had ever encountered. I could never reach it. It was a different entity entirely.
And then one day it spoke to me. Almost in my voice, but with narcisism and power... and a mocking tone. That's when it was obvious to me that something inside of me knew everything there was to know. So when it told me to kill her, it made perfect sense to me. It had never guided me in the wrong direction. After all, I assume we are one and the same... or at least working towards a common goal. Life perhaps? No. Happiness. We're both working for happiness. I wonder why it is that it only says bad things then.
-------------------
The past is a bitch. A crude harsh reality. Everything undealt with sliding forward into the present, etching itself into our utmost being, seeping into places within ourselves that we can't go alone, and molding there... spoiling our mood, our life, our personality, and our outcome. So maybe I can't deal. Am I crazy? I don't think I am. I think everyone does drastic things to keep themselves sane. Most may be legal. I guess that would make you lucky. But murder is only wrong by law. Who is to say what is right and what is wrong. It's all majority. But this is my life. Fuck majority. I need this.
And it molded into him. He hates me. He never even gave me a chance. But it would have worked out, but he gave himself away. I don't know who he gave himself to, but she hurt me. We can't be together because she took his heart, that cunt. She took it and now it will never be mine. She deserves to die for this. I'm not crazy.
I'm not.
-------------------
It was freezing outside when I passed by her window, the snow crunching under my feet with a sound that almost resembled creaking. I winced with every step, but I knew she couldn't hear me. I could see her in there, bathed in yellow light, looking sick as ever, that bitch. There was no one else home tonight. A dog barked, but fuck it. This isn't the movies. I figured, you know, dogs bark at shit. They bark all the time. Fuck, maybe she'd come out here because of it and that would just reek of convenience. Hence my point.
So I walked past the side of the house, in the shadow right next to the house itself, towards the back door. Or side door. Whatever. Now, I hate screen doors, I do, because they creak. That's really annoying. And a dead give-away. So I didn't bullshit around, I just reached up and pulled the fucking thing open and knocked on the door. She opened it a crack, and I was on her faster than she was on her knees for him 2 years ago. I hope the metal tasted good. I can only assume it entered her mouth through the back of her head once I had the bitch face down with her head under my boot on the floor. Owned.
------------------
I must have done it wrong. Because he freaked out over her. He got all depressed, I don't get it. It wasn't like they were still together, but she did own his heart I guess. And even after death? I don't understand why I can't have love like that. It's all I ever wanted really. But there's only one thing left to do after all that. When plan A doesn't work? When nothing works? When all that's left is you, your misery, and a Shappu knife?
You get your priorities straight.
The girl winced, tightening herself into fetal position.
It beats for someone he gave it to long ago.
"No it doesn't," she whispered.
But it does. His heart never beat for you.
The girl's eyes grew wide. "But what do I do?"
Choose her or choose you.
She nodded, pulling herself into an upright position, her arms still wrapped tightly around her knees.
-----------
There is no insanity. There are no disorders. Things are random. Imperfections are normal. Some are more pronounced. Some are wrong, but only by our standards. There is no right and wrong, there is only common law.
And I knew when the voices started in the back of my mind that I was smarter than I thought. But not me. My subconscious. An entirely different persona lurked behind closed doors at the end of my mind. It knew everything I had ever learned. It remembered every face I had ever encountered. I could never reach it. It was a different entity entirely.
And then one day it spoke to me. Almost in my voice, but with narcisism and power... and a mocking tone. That's when it was obvious to me that something inside of me knew everything there was to know. So when it told me to kill her, it made perfect sense to me. It had never guided me in the wrong direction. After all, I assume we are one and the same... or at least working towards a common goal. Life perhaps? No. Happiness. We're both working for happiness. I wonder why it is that it only says bad things then.
-------------------
The past is a bitch. A crude harsh reality. Everything undealt with sliding forward into the present, etching itself into our utmost being, seeping into places within ourselves that we can't go alone, and molding there... spoiling our mood, our life, our personality, and our outcome. So maybe I can't deal. Am I crazy? I don't think I am. I think everyone does drastic things to keep themselves sane. Most may be legal. I guess that would make you lucky. But murder is only wrong by law. Who is to say what is right and what is wrong. It's all majority. But this is my life. Fuck majority. I need this.
And it molded into him. He hates me. He never even gave me a chance. But it would have worked out, but he gave himself away. I don't know who he gave himself to, but she hurt me. We can't be together because she took his heart, that cunt. She took it and now it will never be mine. She deserves to die for this. I'm not crazy.
I'm not.
-------------------
It was freezing outside when I passed by her window, the snow crunching under my feet with a sound that almost resembled creaking. I winced with every step, but I knew she couldn't hear me. I could see her in there, bathed in yellow light, looking sick as ever, that bitch. There was no one else home tonight. A dog barked, but fuck it. This isn't the movies. I figured, you know, dogs bark at shit. They bark all the time. Fuck, maybe she'd come out here because of it and that would just reek of convenience. Hence my point.
So I walked past the side of the house, in the shadow right next to the house itself, towards the back door. Or side door. Whatever. Now, I hate screen doors, I do, because they creak. That's really annoying. And a dead give-away. So I didn't bullshit around, I just reached up and pulled the fucking thing open and knocked on the door. She opened it a crack, and I was on her faster than she was on her knees for him 2 years ago. I hope the metal tasted good. I can only assume it entered her mouth through the back of her head once I had the bitch face down with her head under my boot on the floor. Owned.
------------------
I must have done it wrong. Because he freaked out over her. He got all depressed, I don't get it. It wasn't like they were still together, but she did own his heart I guess. And even after death? I don't understand why I can't have love like that. It's all I ever wanted really. But there's only one thing left to do after all that. When plan A doesn't work? When nothing works? When all that's left is you, your misery, and a Shappu knife?
You get your priorities straight.