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"To be, or not to be."
That quote always fucked me up mentally. Honestly what the fuck was Shakespeare thinking when he wrote that? It keeps rising up the "what if" questions and contemplate everything I've done in my life.
Here I am, pacing around what used to be my home, with my old journal in hand and reading shit I wrote. I remember the last page I've filled, the whole thing is filled with lines from songs and interpretations of them or quotes I came across. It was random, this book. I didn't have anything specific to write about, just stuff that passed through my mind during the day. I've finished this thing about... almost a year before I died.
Died, death, dead.
It still is weird to say those words. I'm dead. When I died. My death. It's been over 730 days and I till now find it strange I'm still lingering in this world, just because I can't let go of my excessive anger. An eye for an eye. I believe in that strongly, ever since I was a kid. That's one of the reasons people had always found me intimidating. Someone does something bad to you, it's your right to take revenge. Give them what they deserve for their uncalled action. It may seem savage and vulgar in some cases, that it would cause chaotic blood battles, but hasn't it already happened? Those world wars and petty fights because no one can resolve anything in peace. It comes as an instinct when a man's ego is wounded, revenge. Stubborn, you could call it. But it's all about the pride.
I drop the black journal on the desk, making my way to the hallway outside my office and towards the unnecessarily fancy stairs to my room in the third level. I think about what happened a few days ago, at Jace's. I didn't find anything that could help me, but shit, I found that picture of one of the little girls standing beside a man that definitely isn't Jace. She was smiling shyly at the camera while grasping his jacket. The upper half of his body didn't show, therefore, it's not really useful. I took it anyway just to make sure it's the same girl, but that smile with a missing tooth is unmistakable. I was right, it's the younger one. Also, the picture is black and white too. I recall that the trend of black and white pictures was revived around 2012. You'd see it a lot with posters and billboards, stuff like that other than photographs.
I lie down on my bed, staring at the ceiling before looking the glass at the dark place. Am I going to find that piece of shit? This is getting frustrating every day.
Okay, from scratch. "The little locket and abandoned ammo, I was shot from above, no one noticed, it is strongly likely to be someone hired, no one looked suspicious in my funeral but the old man stayed longer than the others at my grave, my place in the record label was taken by a thirty year old man named Gerard Fleming, no one spoke of me in that building no more, I witnessed variety of men have the satisfactory of learning about my death but none who seemed pleased that I'm finally dead as they requested. Jace, Logan, Ronan and many others took over my fame and rose their businesses after my death since I seemingly was the best, Daren doesn't seem pleased with anything happening. Not my death, not the other people rising to the top, nothing. He has a working space away from the public eye with information about everyone involved behind the scenes in the music industry. " That's a lot, but fuck, I need to watch that one once more.
I get up abruptly and hurry off to Daren's. I forgot about him completely; I hope I find something.
I reach the cabin and go straight to the room where he has papers pinned up everywhere in the room. Some are articles, and some are handwritten notes. What for, I don't know. Unlike me, there are no strings connecting pieces together. They're random, unorganised. Each is about a different person and I skim read most of them, noticing that the articles are critising each person and they're from different sources, but as I look at the bottom, they're written by the same person. A. James S. And the critising is unnervingly brutal. He/she pointed out every flaw in each person with an explation and a long ass theory on why they've done the things they did.
