Numbers aren’t so bad, and when you’ve spent your entire life being a nobody a number is worth more than anything you could wish for.
The walls are grey and damp not much different to the cold, dark world outside; I didn’t care for that world just like this one it is irrelevant when you’re irrelevant the snapshots I viewed the world in are now forming a whole new album orange suits and dark walls, emotionless faces and soulless eyes. I fit in here I’m something but nothing just like the rest of them, somewhere deep in them is demons just like mine, maybe they can be friends with mine. Friends, it’s an odd word. Does anyone really have friends do you?
We are all just trying to get through an insignificant existence meeting people along the way who are doing the same things, some of us try similar ways then we talk and get to know the demons in another being most people call this friendship.. I call it competition.
Look at your “friendship group” notice one thing in common with all the others… you have the one you all take the piss out of, but he sticks around making a joke out of it too, even though secretly it gets to him but that’s what friends do right?
The one they all bitch about every chance they get and usually it is the biggest arsehole of the group but some nasty things are always said about her.
The one they all love the one that’s an all-around nice guy till you get him angry.
Does it not get you thinking why do we as humans want to be seen as something more than what we are, why should we care we’re all just as unimportant as each other we are all the same and going for the same place. People try and be “different” but we aren’t Face It you’re all fucked up in your own way.
My cell mate 2409752, she’s one fucked up chick, found out the “Love of her life” was screwing a man he fucked her over she fucked him up and all his faggot friends. Now our demons can be friends they have a lot in common a certain lust, I mean we just want to be loved, fucked and noticed just like the rest of the fucking world.
My story is not so different from hers I see the world for what it is, a pit full of people fucking and fucking up. Everybody is out for themselves what they can get, do better and who they can fuck. The Disney fairy tale of true love and living happily ever after really is just that, a fairy tale.
What did you think those "warm fuzzy" feelings were caused by? True love? Life-long happiness?
Think again. Drugs - opiate like chemicals secreted by your body in response to this chemical stimulation so, since I’ve taken the "magic" out of your feeling, let’s devalue it even more.
How many times have you lied to your "other half"? Said you were going somewhere else, when you weren't. How about exchanged pictures or engaged in inappropriate chat with others on the Internet/telephone/mail. Have you ever had inappropriate thoughts about someone else?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, did you immediately inform your "partner"? If not, you have no business engaging in an organized relationship. Truth is, if this describes you, you don't actually love the individual. You are, in fact, addicted to the pleasurable feelings that your brain so kindly creates when you are associating with them in an emotionally intimate way.
The fact of the matter is that none of you people can honestly say you love someone outside of your family, simply because you've all done at least one of the things I mentioned earlier – which is exactly why I said it. Unfortunately, you all will probably continue your lying, deceptive ways. Addicts.
Luckily for me I’d always known this so fucking everyone I could never was a problem.
I fucked him, he fucked her, he fucked up.
After the numerous stab wounds, the darkest, red-coloured blood came sputtering out of him like a waterfall, making a pool around his lifeless body. His beloved Alison saw she was next she knew she fucked with the wrong girl.
Maybe Love is real after all, gaaah no just playing had you for a second there didn’t I? I didn’t Love him but the feeling I had in that moment, that rush that ecstasy the pure euphoric like state I was feeling, that I loved.
She ran, she screamed, she fought back, she failed.
A crimson river pouring out of her like water from a tap, splashing my face, the wall everything, I felt invincible in those last moments she saw me she didn’t see through me she regretted what she had done she looked into my eyes as if trying to find my soul but of course she saw the black emptiness but she noticed I was real.
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Book / Mystery and Crime
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