Hi mom.dad. Please leave the crying for later. Besides, your teardrops will end up smudging my last attempt at conversation. I’m dead and tears don’t have therapeutic powers. I‘ll tell you what does though. Sex. But who would want to screw someone with a 3 inch excuse right. Wrong. And amazed as I was at my sheer luck, I was silly enough to not sniff something fishy. Turns out she had the virus and gave me the worst birthday gift ever. AIDS. And on top of that she had this ugly mole bang in the centre of, well that’s not the point.
The point is I’m infected. tainted. besmirched. You get the drift. And since I’m dying in any case, might as well ‘burn out than fade away’ eh. Urgh. How i hate these idioms.
So anyways, I now have aids. The first time I get laid is the last time I get laid. And I used to think masturbating with the vegetables and stuff was bad. Wow. What a fucking life. And we haven’t even started talking about the chest hair situation, the social ridicule, the tummy tyres and the receding hairline. ‘I’m not losing hair’ I used to tell myself. ‘I’m getting head!’ So much for meaningful existence. *Sulks; Pats back* So you know, It wasn’t entirely not in the offing.
You know I still have great deal left to say, but well, I’ll forever hold my peace, and you’ll never know what I was thinking.