18+ for language.
Here's the beginning of a short story I'm working on:
You want me to tell a little about myself? I f***ing hate it when people ask me to tell a little about myself, because there isn’t any way anyone can tell just a little about their self, people aren’t that f***king simple. If you want to hear about me I’ll start at the beginning, and by beginning I don’t mean all the sh*t about where I was born, who my parents are, and what my childhood was like.
No, I’ll start with a story I wrote in the second grade. The story was about a boy who had a pet monster, a big scary one, and whenever this little stuck up kid got mad he’d sick the goddamn monster on the person he was mad at. The first to go were his parents for making he clean his room, then his teacher for putting him in time out, then this other little brat who picked on him, and then his friends for not playing with him. After a while he was the only person in the whole town the monster hadn’t eaten, because it was a loyal monster, and the boy was glad to have the whole town to just him. When my second grade teacher read the story she gave me an “F” and called my parents. Then parents sent me to a therapist who was a real pain in the ass. I just told him everything he wanted to hear till he was convinced his services were no longer needed.
Now, looking back on that story there’s one thing I’d really like to change. After everyone else is gone the kid feels lonely and he cries, “I’ve made a horrible mistake!” but no one can hear him. Because he is alone.
I’m starting with that because it just goes to show how f***ed up I am, but I think everyone’s f***ed up, at least a little bit.
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