Most days a bullet in head would be a kind gesture. Not sure i’ll ever feel anything agian. Only small cowards make enimies for life by getting in my way. Then when I see the look in their eyes of prey about to be consumed a breaf lucid moment of selfish guilt roles over me and I go back to feeling nothing as I stare off into the distance coldly remebering times when i was happy when i could think and feel. Hating every thing i was in envious rage of a time i wasn’t sick. Now all feelings expressed are asumptions based on calculations of how i should be feeling based off societies expectation. I have a become my own observer a disconect wich I disregard with selfish neglect. Pity me and die please i don’t need your guilt on top of all this.