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“You aren’t in any kind of trouble. Tell the other kids I had you stick around to help me collect books and pens if they ask, but I want to know…how are things at home? Really.”

"How the fuck do you begin that conversation? How do you blow the top of a strangers head off with desperate hurt that clings to your soul...
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What keeps the trigger in place these days? What if the void already has a man? And what does that man have to do with me? Really though, heaven has got to be full of dull strangers and hell is surely full of people I already know and I'm sick of them all. We all have wooden nails...

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"Futility.

You hear the word and you imagine a certain knowledge of things beforehand, “I figured it would end this way but shit, I had to try.”

I imagine walking long miles for nothing, running head long into total absurdity, not because you knew you had to try anyway, but because you had no options left but the hail Mary.

You aren’t a passenger...
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Killing a man is easy to do, destroying his legacy though, that takes time, like water slowly wearing down a mountain. Every time she cried I wanted to become a river.