It’s just fuck me all the time. Can’t open my mouth, someone wants to pick a fight. Stay silent, they demand I speak, and then they pick a fight. Doesn’t matter where I am, who I’m with. Everyone just wants me to suffer, apparently.

I don’t know a way out. There doesn’t seem to be one.

I have a recurring fantasy that I simply start walking and never come home. It seems more glorious than it probably would be.

There are people everywhere, and most of them seem to be awful, or at least hellbent on making everyone around them miserable.

Target: 600 words
Written: 1751 words, novella: The Mungk

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