No, I mean literally. You said I looked good today and of course it made me chuckle.
Trash looking good, as if.
Then it started to make me laugh.
God, you can't even take a compliment properly, what's wrong with you?
And laugh louder.
The only thing worth laughing at is the fact that a waste of space like you is allowed to live.
And more manically.
That's it, show everyone what a messed up piece of filth you are.
Until I felt that red hot pain emanating from my behind. Then it's only screaming. The whole cafeteria scatters as the smell of burning flesh begins to circulate. It's as if the Grim Reaper himself is using his scythe to carve my ass like a Thanksgiving turkey. The lights are off now, save for the harsh blinking of the fire-alarm system. I can't hear the alarm over my desperate sobs. Yet somehow, all at once, I don't hear anything at all.
Now I'm in the hospital, inhaling that telltale disinfectant, hazy fluorescent lights slowly grow sharper, but I don't close my eyes. Maybe if I force them open long enough I can get a nice sear on my retinas. Maybe then I won't see the gruesome fate my self-hating mindset has lead me to.
Maybe then I won't have to see the damage it has done... to my booty.
Fin.
