“6/6/36
Dear fucking Diary.
Why. Why the fucking hell. What did he do to deserve this?...
Four years ago today….. 2032… was the best day of my life.
I fathered a child.
Jonathan Marilyn Harlet.
6/6/32-6/6/36.
Four years old.
Shot multiple times in the head.
What the fuck.
That’s all i can fucking say.
What the fuck.
Fucking…
shut
fuck
fuckfuck.

I can take this. At all.
this fucked up world. This giant…
fucked up…
world…
Why?
The person I trusted…
my best friend…
caught in the fucked uppedness of the world.
Uppedness.
Psh.
Maybe I’m fucked up too.
Wow.
I laughed.
Laughed…
that word is so obsolete now.
Every since It happened.
No one laughs anymore.
No body.
There is no funny.
There is no happy.
There is no laughter.
All there is is dismal blackness.
Black that consumes all light.
The kind of black that never ends.”
I put down my journal, my eyes filling with tears.
I threw it across the room and tightened my grip on the trigger.