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Rainbows, Lollipops, and FUCK YOU.
[ This is a small excerpt from an autobiography I wrote ]
Around the time I was about to be 14, our dog Sioux died. We abused him so much. No one cared about anyone or anything, everyone was so lost in themselves, and we let the dog starve in a cage. No one ever walked him, he always yelped and we screamed for him to shut up and we’d smack him or shake the cage roughly to scare him. He died due to starvation, I discovered his body when I was bringing him food. He’d been dead for a day and I’d just gotten home from my dad’s. His death was blamed on me, my mom called me a monster and a killer and asked me if I was proud of myself. I still feel like a monster since that day for killing something and taking away it’s innocence just like Lee and Darrell had done to me. I decided then that I was a monster.
Around the time I was about to be 14, our dog Sioux died. We abused him so much. No one cared about anyone or anything, everyone was so lost in themselves, and we let the dog starve in a cage. No one ever walked him, he always yelped and we screamed for him to shut up and we’d smack him or shake the cage roughly to scare him. He died due to starvation, I discovered his body when I was bringing him food. He’d been dead for a day and I’d just gotten home from my dad’s. His death was blamed on me, my mom called me a monster and a killer and asked me if I was proud of myself. I still feel like a monster since that day for killing something and taking away it’s innocence just like Lee and Darrell had done to me. I decided then that I was a monster.
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