No Happiness

The last blog article of a gunman.

I’m just out of bed. It’s four in the afternoon. I waked up early in the morning. Earlier than the sun. I just lay in bed. All day staring at this white ceiling, staring back at me. Laughing at me. Silently. But it’s still better, than get called a loser by the other boys. Even though they’re right. I am a loser. I failed. Not able to be happy. Not able to live. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe the gods love me and want to get me as early as they can. But why don’t they kill me? Illness. An accident. Murder. Instead they infect me with an awful poison and let me suffer. Something black inside me, flowing through my veins, making me that strange kind of sad. And maybe also mad. Yeah guys, I would say, I’m dead already. I’ll never be happy. I’ve some good friends and a wonderful mom. But in the end, there’s no place for me in this stupid world. My soul is crying. Thanks for listening to my laments. This will be my last article.

I’m sorry,

Marcus