God. Fucking. Damn. It.

This must all be a dream. I would demand it of the deities humans worship. I would sell everything of mine worth taking for the chance to undo all the horrors this year has brought. If it is true that this universe is just a great simulation, well, fuck you, Player.

I was never a good writer to begin with, thoughts scattering across paper this way and that, but lately I’ve been feeling a strange hum of rage in the back of my mind. I’ve been suppressing it because I was never smartest when emotionally overwhelmed, but if this keeps up I’m afraid it’ll blow its lid off. And when it does, how would I write it all down?

Where does one begin writing all the anger?

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