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? Do they not understand the concept that I make the rules? I am God; I decide when I sleep not the enemy. My observations were clear; they have taught me a lot. I have discovered that darkness robs the light, darkness was my friend. I admire his capabilities to steal the light and just inform the whole world he is here.

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The alarm rings. I have a flash back, 1995, Gladesmore School. The teachers all looking down at me, they mock me while they drink their cheap, revolting tea. The kids don’t notice me; they just sprint past me while pushing me onto the walls. I will make them notice, mark my word. The next day, I arrive. Everyone is staring, their eyes full of tears. What is happening? Why is everyone standing still? Teachers panicking and children crying. They dared to mock me, this is what happens. The wrath of God has arrived. No more will their dissonance leave my skull impregnated with their vernacular literature. I will not be driven to suicide by their idiom.

The previous school day was like any other with a twist. As I headed to my class, I could see everyone, but no one could see me. I was the yellow taxi in New York, while everyone else was the lady in the red dress in Wall Street. Everybody stares at the lady in the red dress, some talk others just admire. The yellow taxi was a no body. People only noticed him when they needed something.

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. I felt my omnipotent hands, collide with his face, he dropped to the ground, check mate!

As I went into class that afternoon, I became the lady in the red dress. I had evolved, thank you Darwin. Everybody was watching me, smiling not wanting me to show my wrath. There was a bee flying around the classroom. I stood up, the teacher and students just stared at me with their beaming eyes. As the bee got closer, I used my two hands and smashed it, killing it. I felt aroused as the bee stung me, knowing that it was dying. I felt powerful. I had just taken a life, I finally showed my strength. I was smiling all the way through the class.

The feeling was just immense. I start to wonder, what is like to die? How do you feel? I just wondered what it would be like to become a fly. Would it be so bad? I mean I would be looking down at all these peasants. I wouldn’t have to go to school. I wouldn’t have to live in a bureaucracy. I didn’t do not fear anything, even death. The idea of death aroused me. I would be leaving this life, this so called precious life that I am supposed to feel grateful for. What is there to be grateful for? I am a nobody, I have no friends, I have no enemies apart from the ones that are in my head. I had been bullied most of my life. Was there a time where I smiled or was genuinely happy, I don’t know?

After one of my inquisitive teachers saw my behaviour they decided to send me to a psychiatrist. 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…


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