“It's all about you.”
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Thursday, August 10, 2006 || 10:21 AM
Misery. A word that can cause so much pain.
Couple of times, I find myself taking out my own pistol from the air rifle range armory, opening the box, and staring at my own gun......
Face blank, wide-eyed......
Couple of times, I find myself loading the pellet into the pistol, ready to fire......
Face set, one-eyed......
Couple of times, I find myself raising the pistol......
Face determined, closed-eyed......
Couple of times, I find myself preparing to press the trigger......
At my own head......
Couple of times, I find myself wondering, "So what if I press the trigger?"
Tell me, does my death really mean anything to the world?
Couple of times, I find myself doubting whether I am supposed to exist.
Couple of times, I find myself lying on my own bed, thinking of what terror lurks tomorrow.
Couple of times, I find myself wondering how the world would be when terror strikes me.
Couple of times, I find myself thinking how you would react when I am gone.
Yes, how would you react when I am gone on the nation's birthday.
