It is coming. Hunting season is on its way. I simply cannot wait. all of those sick little birdies will bow before me, and I will crush them, burn them.
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
A journal of the criminally insane.
KorkuYou know, I can still hear her voice sometimes, or her last breath. I wanted to catch it in a jar so she would never stop breathing. So that she would not be lost. But that wouldn’t have saved her. Nothing could. She’s gone. And she’s never coming...
July 21st, 2007
It is coming. Hunting season is on its way. I simply cannot wait. all of those sick little birdies will bow before me, and I will crush them, burn them.
