Friday, February 18, 2011

Dear Diary: Writing Challenge from Kit Fox

Dear Diary,
It's been a long couple of days. I've been roped into another mission with the Alliance. I know, the last time I write to you, I was vowing I would never take another mission from them.I can't turn this one down though. It fucking sucks. And not in the whiny emo-bitch-boy way. More like in the way that I may lose my mind. Even as I write this I can feel the monster's claws digging deeper into my soul. Fucked up, eh?

Anyway, so I took back up writing because my 'therapist' here on the ship, said it would help.Yeah that's the other thing. I'm now on an Alliance vessel in a room twice the size of my whole damned ship, which is sitting in their docking bay. I find myself sitting pondering what the hell happened in my life to get me here. It's bullshit and bad decisions mostly but... I can't help but think that the violent streak in me, brought it all about. I knew this part of me, even before I killed that woman. My first kill. Fuck...

Tears are a weird thing. You can cry when you're upset, cry when you're happy, and cry when there's nothing left. I'm at the nothing left point. It's fucking disgusting. The bullshit macho bravado is killing me. And the worst part is that I cant let that show. Not until I'm out in the field. Then the empty souled killer comes out. Even Angela couldn't stand me. Hell she killed for a living too. The difference is that bitch dared to have a soul through it all. She's the only one that's dared to call me on the monster in me and lived. Just barely, but she's still alive. She's probably out of the hospital by now. It's been a few weeks. To think I used to love her. Her last words to me were 'I can't believe I loved you'. Worst part... I still love her. After all the shit she's put me through...And don't think I'm the only one with anger issues. I can't tell you how many ribs of mine she broke...

So here I am. Grumbling about my life, so my therapist can tear me apart and attempt to make it all better.I don't think the empath understands that she can't just fix this. Hell she couldn't even be in the same room as me for our initial meeting. bitch broke down and started crying. And what did I do? Started laughing. And I starred at her. She's weak. The weak die last, so she'll probably out live me. Not that any of that matters.

No comments: