/lit/ - Literature

Soon that bitch at the pharmacy is going to have to go. The way she says, “Next! Come on! Come on!” makes me wanna get up, look her dead in the eye and fucking wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze.... right up until her windpipe is about to snap in half. Then I'll let go and let her gasp for air just for my amusement. When that wares itself out I'll finish her off with a 360 twist of her old cunty neck. The fluttering sensation I'll feel go down my spine once I see her eyes roll in the back of her head, whilst froffying white foam bubbles up in the corner of her mouth. If I'm lucky enough the whole thing might make me hard. What? What the fuck are you looking at. Oh I guess this is my fault? It always is, right? I'm sick right? Well I guess you better treat me. Perhaps it’s better if I just do it and get it over with. Probably have to blame it on the pills again when they throw my ass in prison. Fucking shit. Why am I at the god damn pharmacy all the fucking time? Maybe if my doctor didn’t give me 40 antidepressants I wouldn’t have to be here so often and contemplate strangling the shit at out of that cunt. I do my fucking part. I go out. I try to be social. None of it fucking works. Why should I have to control my inner impulses? I’ve done all I’ve could. Why don’t they do their fucking job? Give me something that works. Don’t just give me bullshit platitudes for me to complete and pump me full of god damn magic pills when your “advice” doesn’t work. Fuck it, I’ll probably just do my evening walks til she starts running then call it a night.