Each night was an impending doom. My thoughts were completely clouded from the confusion Marko brought me every day, along with the night terrors. Sitting in my bedroom after work, with my spirituality pushed aside, I began to think of Marko in a more factual sense. I had a mental illness. It was the golem in the back of my mind that was only brought out in times like these. What do I do with Marko? How can I make him go away? What went wrong in the first place?
Stupid Fag
Shut up.
You can never stop me
Son of a bitch.
You know you only have one option
And there was clarity. My body, mind, and Marko found a small patch of common ground as we somehow traveled to the kitchen. I'm sorry reader, but my memory of actually committing suicide is fuzzy, all I remember is the melting sensation as all of us began to perish.
"Since Remus Aloysius O'Donnell's recovery, he has been drawing highly detailed pictures of an angelic looking reptile. When I ask him who this is he refuses to reply." -Harrison Lafayette.