Micolus the Colossus

Every once in a whie when I curl up in my bed and I've finished reading for the day, I start to fantasize. There is a certain fantasy that often comes to my mind. I imagine the most perfect woman of all. (i know, so far so good right...). I imagine some realistic scenario when I meet her. I meet her, and we fall in love. She marries me and we have a passionate couple of years ahead of us.

Then she dies.

And i try to feel. I try to feel the very pain my fantasy is feeling, and if I work hard enough, that pain will manifest itself in the outside world. I feel crushed and helpless. I love it. I savor the moment and taste the sour apple that is life, whereafter I comfort myself and gently fall asleep.

I love fabricated pain...

and yes I'm a sick bastard