Take A Ticket
I lay in my bed,
Eyes psychotically wide.
I'm high on desire,
Desire to live.
The want is what motivates me.
But then again,
Life is not worth the effort.
It would be easier to embrace the cold arms of death,
Breath shuddering as I step through the gates
The noose tightening around my neck
As I plunge deeper…
These thoughts are self-destructive,
And I am bound to implode soon.
So let me.
You want to kill me?
Take a ticket,
Join the waitlist.
Waiting time: unknown.
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my brother is taking his final examns today and I ordered some pizza from a local restaurant for him for when he comes back. he asked for the "pizza burguer". I tried two slices and it tastes like the apartment of an 80s action movie set in Miami whose protagonist is a widowed ex-police officer with PTSD or some shit.
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It was good to finally see Dylan in person after this couple of months. Christie was thrilled to see Aiganym again, especially since she had brought something she really liked.
The house seemed quite fantastic to her. It looked modern, but not to the point of offending her taste. In a sense, it was very much Dylan's place. He could really be himself here.
Of course, this was a good opportunity to catch up with the little girl. Christie told Aiganym about her good grades, a new friend she had made, and about wanting to visit her mother during the holidays. Dylan was watching the conversation with a warm heart: although Christie could get along with kids her age, she always seemed to be more comfortable with older people and to prefer interacting with them rather than other kids. With Aiganym, at least, or even her parents, she could discuss topics that her peers didn't necessarily understand, but that she was starting to grasp.
After enjoying a slice of this nicely made chocolate pie (the Aiganym Kudaibergenova way, of course, not anyone else's), Dylan sat to his computer. Aiganym handed him the USB key. Christie went to draw pictures in her room.
"I'm kind of scared of what I could find inside", he said. "I hope this isn't going to be some really horrid experiment."
"Me neither, but we've got to do it regardless. We need to know what's inside…"
"The encryption doesn't look too complicated. Not for my level at least. I've seen worse than this. I just hope this isn't going to give me a virus."
"Haven't you made a virus for a client once though?"
"I did, but that still doesn't mean I'd like my own computer to be infected" he chuckled.
"That'd be kind of silly, yeah."
"Duh. Of course. I'm not an idiot."
But as the minutes passed, Dylan realized he completely underestimated the encryption of that drive. It looked simple at first, but was deceptive: one layer of encryption hid just another, which was harder than the first. He was struggling to find a way to get around it. His body was getting tenser: what if he was too dumb to understand how to do it? What if all those skills were just in his head and he was simply a poser? What if his lack of master-level knowledge, despite fairly good programming skills, would cause harm to his friend ultimately? What if he was simply an impostor?
"FUCK!" he suddenly let out, smashing his fist on the desk, in a fit of rare rage.
Aiganym jumped.
"Are you okay?"
"The damn thing is so frustrating. I didn't think it'd be so hard."
"Hey, you know, if you don't manage to do it, I won't be mad at you…"
Christie came out of her room with a puzzled look on her face.
"Daddy? Are you alright? You said a very bad word."
"Yes, sweetie. I'm just getting a bit frustrated with that… silly USB drive."
He really wanted to say "gosh-fucking-darned", but no, not in front of the kids.
"But you're good at doing things with computers, right? You can do it."
"Yeah, but sometimes it's just harder than you expect…"
"Coffee?" Christie suggested.
"No sweetie, it's going to make me more nervous."
Dylan sighed. He hated, hated any kind of circumstance that brought him back to this feeling of just being incompetent, of having made up his skills, of just being a piece of dogshit coated with gold or silver.
Ultimately, it's still dogshit. It may not smell of dogshit anymore, nor look like dogshit, but it's still a piece of dogshit. That included challenges that turned out to be harder than what he had imagined.
Aiganym glanced at him with a feeling look, then went up to Christie, who had sat on the couch.
"How about you show me your plants outside?" she said to the little girl. "I think your dad needs a bit of space."
"Oh yeah, sure! I've followed aaaall your advice when it comes to planting things."
"What have you planted?"
"Tulips and raspberries!"
"Oh, I love raspberry jam..."
"Blueberries are tastier though!"
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