AN: I thank those who decided to give this story a chance, and those of you who... had interesting things to say... I'll just be the bigger person and just let you know I respect your opinion, but I disagree. Don't forget to comment, whether it be praise, constructive criticism, or pure hatred... all are welcome.


Dear world,

Well, I guess I survived long enough to come back to you. How could I forget? That's all I do, walk around figuring out I'm going to tell this. Quick, I do want to do it quick, yeah, but how long? How detailed should I be? Should I tell you every single little bloody detail, lieterally, literally (is that right?) bloody.

So I decided to dance with the devil, I'm writing this in the backyard. What does that got to do with anything though? Well, I need to finish my story first. I don't want to leave anything out, I don't want to say so much at once, your fragile mind will just be confused. That's all we do, walk around all confused and lonely and lost, so we turn to evil shit, like murder and suicide and tearing yourself apart, because we're all so damn confused.

I don't think I told you what I look like, did I? Well, why does it even matter? It don't mean a damn thing, but I'll tell you anyways, no, no, actually no, I'm not going to tell you. Think of me however you want, because then, then everybody has their own version of me. How do you see me? You, the person reading this at this exact moment. I already said I was fat, oh wait, that was the girl in the story wasn't it. Damn, I ruined it, you already know a bit. Am I pretty though? Do you think I'm pretty?

It don't matter, not a thing matters, everything is just bullshit. Oh! Got my hair done today, looking hot! You know what that shit is? That motherfucking bullshit is a post. Facebook, twitter, whatever the fuck else online social network. I never paid much attention to all the different ones, what they were, I was too busy fucking dudes, oops, I wasn't supposed to say that. But it's down. No, no, this is all wrong. I'd crumple this up, but I want to keep it all in the same notebook and my first letter to you is on the front of this paper, well, actually part of it, it was pretty long, take in my shitty handwriting and we've got about ten pages, and that last tenth page is on the front of this one. I am not going to re-write shit.

Where was I? I don't know, I'm kind of tired, and a bit cold, it's pretty cold outside. There's a piece of shit next to me, a piece of dog shit. Just sitting there next to me on the half dead, half too alive grass. I'm sitting on the grass, I planted my ass right on this nasty ass grass and I'm writing right now, well, what else would I be doing? Having sex? Yeah right, I can multi-task, but not like that…well actually…now that I think about it, it wouldn't be hard at all. Lol, well, one thing will be hard, pretty hard.

My baby is is the ground underneath me, I planted my ass right over the dirty that covers her little body. I bet if I just reached in there I could wrap my hands around her little body, pull her out, breathe life into her tiny body, tiny fragile dead body. I can barely write I'm so tired, I'm always tired now, how can I get anything done when I'm tired? Can't write, can't think, nothing, days all blend together.