"Man the fuck up, prins!", says John the Killer and I can't really shape the smile that he is looking for. My eyes are covered with tears, the tears of a too strained man searching for any kind of comfort. But I just can't find it, I just can't man the fuck up...
The night threw me aside like a piece of faulty gear, out of my head I followed the voice of a french man. A kind, exentric, gay man who really wants me and it kinda creeps me out. So I keep my distance in the end and leave him very disappointed.
Pissed off at so many things I was screaming on the hill above the sea, others were laughing and cheering on, I couldn't manage to surpress my demons, so I kept on screaming. Staring into black waves, my mind finally came around and we took a walk.
Later on, sitting inside after showing just how weak I really am, we eat a delicious meal. It soothes me, calms me down, makes me realize things and I went home. There was no underlying truth to things, there was just my fucked up mind playing dirty tricks on me and I slept like a god.
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