Well then. I blasted some kid's brains out. Come at me with a knife, my ass. More stories of Him just wanting to correct "It" as they keep telling me. What the fuck would some horror wan to correct? His diet? I don't think I want to be monster food. I decided to stick with the crazy bitch. She's sleeping after a night of driving. As we've noticed, we can spot him better at night. less crowds. I'm thinking of going to my old house. Picking up some stuff. I know I have a shotgun in the safe there, and I could use the firepower. They keep coming, in waves, almost zombie-like.
In other news, I've noticed something. I'm seeing less and less of my kind. and, it's weird. Less passing conversations, about methods. Less friendly faces with something to drink. Less horror stories. I miss the conversations. I miss the broken smiles, and the confidence and energy they brought me. Are we all gonna end up like that? I don't wanna burn out, so won't someone please set me on fire again?
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