I have not moved for 4 hours. I've been sat in my armchair, waiting for a frozen bag of chicken nuggets to melt. I've got my laptop, and even an old fashioned porno mag, but I just can't seem to get it up for myself anymore. My wankbank has turned into memories and hurt feelings.
Once when Magdalene and I were spotty, sweaty teenagers with an insatiable sexual appetite; my mother walked into the room. She saw as Magdalene's face was pressed to the wall so hard she had scratches on her cheek the next day. She liked it like that: borderline abusive. I looked my mother in the eyes as I rammed even harder. She walked away.
You're probably wondering by now what happened to her. I haven't been able to talk about it, because I haven't been able to think about it. Even now mentioning it feels like my body is being ripped apart.
Magdalene is dead. I killed her.
I've been thinking of killing myself too, now that life is near pointless. Ah, but not quite. I have a mission; I wouldn't be this brilliant without a mission. Martyrdom without a great deed is just idiocy. I will someday affect the lives of everyone, I will be your saviour.
Is life not a thousand times too short for us to bore ourselves?- Nietzche
Through practise I've corrupted my own mind. I don't see things how you do. When I see the words "red and white" I don't think of Switzerland or candy canes. It's just blood and semen.
But now I'm stuck in this armchair, my lap wet from defrosted nuggets and my bladder bursting. I've got my mothers face in my head and Magdalene's voice. What would my father say? What would my father say?
I would go into a church to pray but I'm afraid I'd go up in flames.
The devil was an angel once.
Once when Magdalene and I were spotty, sweaty teenagers with an insatiable sexual appetite; my mother walked into the room. She saw as Magdalene's face was pressed to the wall so hard she had scratches on her cheek the next day. She liked it like that: borderline abusive. I looked my mother in the eyes as I rammed even harder. She walked away.
You're probably wondering by now what happened to her. I haven't been able to talk about it, because I haven't been able to think about it. Even now mentioning it feels like my body is being ripped apart.
Magdalene is dead. I killed her.
I've been thinking of killing myself too, now that life is near pointless. Ah, but not quite. I have a mission; I wouldn't be this brilliant without a mission. Martyrdom without a great deed is just idiocy. I will someday affect the lives of everyone, I will be your saviour.
Is life not a thousand times too short for us to bore ourselves?- Nietzche
Through practise I've corrupted my own mind. I don't see things how you do. When I see the words "red and white" I don't think of Switzerland or candy canes. It's just blood and semen.
But now I'm stuck in this armchair, my lap wet from defrosted nuggets and my bladder bursting. I've got my mothers face in my head and Magdalene's voice. What would my father say? What would my father say?
I would go into a church to pray but I'm afraid I'd go up in flames.
The devil was an angel once.
Is life not a thousand times too short for us to bore ourselves?
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/f/friedrichn109765.html#PI7V1E8oPstlzRwd.99
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/f/friedrichn109765.html#PI7V1E8oPstlzRwd.99
Is
Is life not a thousand times too short for us to bore ourselves?
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/f/friedrichn109765.html#PI7V1E8oPstlzRwd.99
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/f/friedrichn109765.html#PI7V1E8oPstlzRwd.99
