I (Will Never) Wanna Be Your Dog (Again).

Please be illiterate.

I don't always understand this agression. But then, at times, like just then, I do. It makes perfect sense.

Your numbers grow thin, while mine...mine grow, in ways I never could have expected. Revenge isn't something I had planned on before, but due to recent events...

It seems like the perfect place.

Maybe it's in my
Pocket.

The look on your face is going to be so bittersweet.

Christ is not a fashion, and neither are you.

Not a fashion. Not a fashion. You are not a fashion. You. Are. Not. A. Fucking. Fashion. I hope to God some day you understand that. But I doubt you ever will. Too caught up in your trinkets, and in your glimmering nothings. Glistening in the sun. Blinding you. But I've got just the pair of sunglasses for this particular glare.

I will not let doubt or uncertainty or guilt or any other feeling infiltrate me. Not this time. This is so beyond that. Nothing can heal this. That lock has been thrown away and replaced with a new one. One you will never even see, let alone possibly hold the ability to unlock.

Disappear. Please. Not into the air, that's too easy.

Meet new people. Hopefully, that'll help solve some of these issues. Always with the distance though, even in current cases. Work around, work over. Overworked.

Always back to you, though. Especially in times like these. You have no real concept of what you've done, and to how many people you've done it to. I hope today made things clear. You have done things that are irreversible and undeniable, no matter how hard you try. Outcast, you are.

But by all means, stay on your high horse, don't acknowledge a thing. Your time will come. And yours. And yours. But especially yours.

Not a fashion. Remember?

But please, stay illiterate.

Quotes, timelines, acts of betrayal. It's almost like a court case. But you're guilty before you're tried, because the blood is so incredibly apparent, all over your body. It's beyond bloodstained hands. It's a bloodstained state of being. And you will never, ever wash that off, in my eyes. It's these new shades I got, you see. They block out anything that could distract me.

Well, not anything...something always slips by. But the important things are blocked, and that's all that matters. I cannot be defeated. Not with the assurance I have, and the friends, TRUE friends by my side. Nothing will stop me. Ever. Again. So help me.

But please, remember. Not a fashion. Never again will I fall misfortune to yours or any other's fashion. I won't let trinkets and baubles and pinstripes and color distract me, ever again. I've always thought fashion didn't matter, but now I know I was only partially right; fashion matters to those who have no depth beyond it.

You'll take all of this literally, but you shouldn't. Or maybe you should. Who knows?

But please, once more.

Stay illiterate.

Remember?