Slow Suicide

I walked across the balcony, the weak wind barely grazing through my hair. The noise around me calmed the voices in my head. The honking, distant- faint conversations, the noisy bikes, all soothed me. A retreat from the quiet, silent conversations.
I die a little each day. People around me kill me, slowly, but unaware themselves. Loneliness has been my favourite companion; I befriended it when I came across people unworthy of being trusted, understood, respected; people incapable of being human.

Indulging

Let's Start the Murdering Spree...