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So you disappear. Thoroughly planning to never be found again. Thoroughly convinced this is The Right Thing to Do.

Only it turns out there isn’t really a Right Thing to Do. Everything you do is the wrong thing to do. Because you’re a failure, and a misthead, and a fool. One of those three isn’t a bad thing, but it’s a comforting thing to blame everything on.

If only the need for blame would disappear rather than the misthead. All the normal, unwanted feelings. Guilt. Anger. Fear. If only those would never be found again. If only.

Hello, I am misthead and I’m not here. This isn’t happening.

 

One Comment

  1. We love you misthead :)


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