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Story of a miraculous journey from a nobody to a somebody.

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Story of a miraculous journey from a nobody to a somebody. As I sat and admire the view from my window, a bright full moon beams down at me through the prison cell window that is my room. Am I a sleep? Is this really happening, surely this must be one of my many delusional thoughts. Alas, it was reality. As I sit and glare at the darkness that I see, I think. I think about my situation. I slowly corner myself into the side of the room, holding my knee. What's that? Silence is what it is. My body gets stiffer, I feel as if I have meningitis. I did not want to eat; I would go into a mini seizure every time I had been touched by the filth that is my peasants. Do they not realise that they inferior? How dare they get their germ ridden hands on my perfectly symmetrical biceps? It was 6 in the morning, I am about to go to sleep. Do they think I am going to abide by their rules? ...read more.


Alarm goes off, launch time. The sound of the bell and the actions of the people when they heard it made me realise how much I hate this bureaucracy. I could see him. The schools most popular person, he was followed by his sheep's. He was 6ft, with a body like Tom lister jr. He had a face like a pitbull terrier and the mind set of a lion. He was egotistic. He saw me stare, he stared back. It was like a game of chess. I was sweating, his face was tensing. I wasn't going to back down. He said, "Oi, you want me to make you blind". I said, "Oi, you want me to help you with your vernacular". Even though didn't have the slightest clue as to what I said, he ran towards me. I didn't run back. As he came leaning forward to punch me, I stepped back, he tripped. He was embarrassed. As he came back up, I took the swing now. ...read more.


I decided, today was the day. I was going to take a life, again. I bought a knife with me the next morning. I dreamt the previous night about bodies laying on the floor me touching and feeling these bodies. My psychiatrist asked me about my dreams and view of life and my self I told him. He started writing some words that described me; necrophiliac, narcissist and malevolent. I just started at him, full of hatred, this person is judging me? How can this be? As I slowly moved back, reached to my pocket and felt the knife. I slowly cut my self, I licked the blood. I wanted a taste of the feeling. I slowly rubbed the icy cold knife over my warm face. I could see he felt nervous. If he really knew me, he would know not to speak or say a word without my permission and he did just that. I slowly walked up to him. I heard three knocks and someone was entering the room, I got my knife in position confused as to which one was going to see my wrath, I had decided it would be... ...read more.

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