Venting: Bite Me, Genius

Well, I guess that makes you a genius. THE Genius:

I may be an idiot at heart, but my brain cells aren’t dead yet. I can think, I can read, and I can find the not-so-subliminal message that I am supposed to be incapable of.

If I remember correctly, the problem was not boredom. I was pushed off the edge so many times that I just couldn’t climb back up anymore. Do you remember who pushed me?

Oh, and one more thing. When I fell, I stayed where I was. You left. You left me there without a second glance, hoping I would die.

Well, the doctor may not know it, but I have. I have died on the inside, and I too, feel nothing. It’s not that I try to, or even want to. That fall left me empty, or at least I thought so until…

This may be a disappointment to you, but the very day I got that letter, I felt something stirring. It was something like butterflies. They kept flapping their delicate wings until I read those first vicious words. There’s something to talk about: Butterflies. The ones that bite.

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