I can’t really figure out the worst part of this story. I think I might just hate everything equally. Now if that doesn’t scream out positivity, I don’t know what the hell does.
He looked at me with a smug look, I suppose was in triumphant response to the perplexed one I shot towards him. I mean, for starters, I stared at myself. To be more detailed about it, I stared at what I thought to be my reflection. But of course, that couldn’t be a reality if I was standing here, listening and confused, while at the same time, I also stood there throwing out sarcastic babble.
Dream. This is a dream. Was a dream? Is a dream.
What the hell was I talking about before? A story? Something terrible. A series of terrible events. Because not just one thing terrible could have happened, it had to be multiple terrible things. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had such sarcastic banter with myself.
Trying to piece back my previous thoughts, all the while arguing and fighting myself with my current thoughts, I somehow remembered thinking, “well, it can’t get much worse than having just murdered someone”. So I guess I murdered someone.
I looked down at what was cold tiled flooring. I stood in those tacky cliché black and white tiled kitchens. How did I know the floor was cold? Not sure. Because I was wearing socks. But it sure as hell looked cold, because that’s what kitchen floors are. Cold. Even in the summer.
Anyways, I stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, without any sort of sense of where I was. Aside from being in the middle of the kitchen floor. Redundant thoughts. Anyways, yeah. I wasn’t even standing on one of these giant tiles, I was like a chess piece that couldn’t decide which square I was on, with both feet resting on separate tiles. I don’t know.
But yeah, so I guess I murdered someone. But there was no body. So why was that even a thought? I didn’t even have anything to murder anyone with. There was a leaf blower in the corner, which was completely irrelevant, but really out of place that I had to mention it. And I don’t even know how I’d go about killing someone with that as my primary weapon. Unless they were a leaf.
This was written without any direction. I may continue it, may not. It was done so to try to keep a creative mindset while struggling with purposeful writing lately.