It has been months. Eight, or maybe nine agonizing, but truthful months. Facing myself has felt like an endless build up, but with one swift blow I realease a torrent of blood. Disgusted with what I was, I plan to walk away from it. Fucking ronin are always on my back looking for a fight.
I don't like killing bugs. I've killed living things before, more then I wanted to, but I try my hardest not to kill the little guys. It's not really all that fair- I mean I'm much bigger then them, big enough to be part of the landscape. It feels like beating up a little kid. My patience can only go so far though. Bugs with stingers, or ones that burrow into my flesh- you're getting whacked. Spiders, I'll pick you up and take you outside. Silverfish move to fast, its fucking creepy- so they too bite it. Flys and knats, well I tend not to kill you unless you are really fucking annoying. I really wish this fucking hairy ass fly would stop landing on me, papa doesn't want to have to kill again.....