I watched her walk away, and I watched myself do nothing to stop her. I could see myself sinking into a deepening rut at work, knuckling under to the bosses and giving up on life.
God, I hated myself.
So I killed me. It wasn’t hard. Just snuck up behind myself and jabbed a screwdriver in my ear. I didn’t struggle much; I think I knew I had it coming.
I’ve got that promotion, now, a bigger apartment, and a hotter girlfriend. But I can’t quite shake the fear. I don’t give warnings. What won’t I like about myself tomorrow?