I feel like a mangy thief. A thief of happiness, goods, innocence, youth... A bringer of regret and remorse. My soul purpose is to take the first of many things and leave you with a dirty, filthy feeling. Like mud under your nails, thats where I lay. Every thick brown grain crunching and grinding against your skin and under your nails until it reaches that sensitive spot where you hate to be touched. Or even worse, chalk under your nails. It makes my teeth tingle.
But anyways, onto the reason I'm writing this. I've been taking firsts of this and that and firsts over here and there. I offer to take your first of the big thing and you agree instantly, you love me. A lot of you do. I could take all your firsts, play you all and make you feel horrible. I'll feel horrible. I wish I was Russian but then would you love me? No. So I will pretend just like you did, and maybe the rest of you did, and be okay with it. I'll pretend I want you, pretend I like you, love you, am cool with you and cool with them all, you'll love me, and I'll snatch it from you and leave in a fit of guilt and anger. You'll die I hope. But my hopes are never answered, wishes always resigned. I can still wish a type of death on you, or that I left an impression, a killer sting in your arm. But I didn't. I am a murderer underwater, fingerprint-less and DNA a drift all along the planet.
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