I...I felt sick. Not physically, which was odd, but mentally sick chasing her. I wanted to fall in love. I wanted and wanted and wanted...at least I had Roy, though I didn't even know how long that'd last or if it even deserved a timestamp at all considering we'd never actually met.
Once again, I was standing at the motherfucking edge of my own sanity and the only reason why I did nothing for it was because I was worried to have always carried what I called Judas Disorder--the prime cutoff of sanity that comes after repeated experiences of a religious nature, the compound of guilt that comes with reportedly standing by and denying it over and over/and or the feeling of having backstabbed God if you refused to carry whatever it was the apparition asked out. It was ugly. It was mentally scarring, it was...it was...what tore up my mind?!
"Talk, take me, take me slowly...but let me carry what will protect me! I deserve that right as a human being! I deserve to see and know! Or cut me as I sleep! Cut my throat as it speaks ill of you, O Lord!"
YOU ARE READING
Puppetry
RandomWell, let's get this out of the way now. I'm bored and figured--what the hell, I might as well chronicle each day from now until the very end. No particular deadline, really. And something hurts in my hips, so I need to distract from the pain in it...
