So, two days ago, the twenty fifth, was the day I found out about my friend's demise, from the so-called sunset.
There's always a certain kind of shock that accompanies the discovery of a friend's death. Seemingly sharper, harder to comprehend, than any other shock.
I don't know how, but somehow I knew, in the back of my damaged mind, that I would neither die nor confront my elusive tormentors on that fateful day.
I do not like how my story is shaping up, so to speak, so I think I will write a new ending. I resolve to end my life, one last spiteful act against the demons who invade my mind.
Fuck you, sunset, for I will not play your games, nor will you be able to force me to participate. Neither will you, unseen, diabolical voices.
Fuck it all and fucking no regrets.
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