More Bullshit

I still don't really know what to say. They're still dead. I'm still hidden and alone. I'm half tempted to start killing again to leave a trail. Fuck knows I could use the stress relief anyway. I used to do beautiful work, once upon a time. Shit was way the fuck simpler before I got involved with the organization. Proxies ruin everything.

Not that I won't deny there were good times. That's how I met the Boss, after all. And there was that time in the kitchen supply store...

But then they destroyed him. Both of them.

Fuck proxies. And fuck me for almost thinking it was a good idea to spill my guts on a blog.

I Shouldn't Fucking Be Here

Let me lay this out. The only two people I actually gave a fuck about are dead. I'm being hunted down by what's left of a gigantic organization built around killing people.

I don't know what the fuck to do anymore. So I started this blog, because shit always happens when you start a blog. And I don't really care if they find me anymore.

Fuck all of you.