Hand me the gun

I would never hurt myself in my own hands because loosing myself is considered a defeat.

But why asked for a gun?

Ever get into a situation where you want to escape but you couldn’t and you shouldn’t. If my words can move they are probably squirming right now.

I thank this letters for letting me breathe at least every four seconds. My heart quicken and if it explodes I don’t know where my blood will splatter.

I am standing in a cliff with one foot hanging, just one wind and I will fall.

Will I die? I hope there is a stream so I can still swim for my life.

Today I know I am jeopardizing my bread and butter. My outlet on the other hand is imperil but for someone who is like a father to me this job is profound.

I plead for patience, clarity, and determination.

For the next eighty days I will stress my serenity and aim to be sane afterwards.

I never took a gum and spit it out.

I never make it to the front line just to hide in someone else’s shadow.

I never stand only to walk away.

I am here to fight.

And if I sound ridiculous and you can’t stand it….

There’s a lighted pathway towards the fire exit and you may use the stairs…

My automated doors won’t waste electricity for you…

Needs to think straight…

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