How many more times am I going to talk about my fucking morning ritual?
100? 200?
Coffee, book, cat. Jesus Christ, I've been over it 333 times in here, but I keep fucking coming back to it.
Because every time, I think I am adding something to the perspective, saying it a little differently, adding more emotion. I gave you my painful knees and aching back this time, didn't I?
But the goddamn truth is, I am just saying the same thing over and over and over again.
And you are sick of it. I know you are. And I know you. You are a vicious, hurtful bastard. Violence cleanses your soul.
You own a crossbow. I have heard tell. And you're good with it. Accurate as a motherfucker.
Go get your crossbow. Load up a bolt. Cock the crossbow, and sight on the middle of my chest.
Dead middle, where all my confusion and self-delusion lies.
Let it rip.
You'll be done with me and I'll be done with me. Peace all around.
No more morning ritual fucking bullshit.
Hallelujah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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