(100 words) 5 May 2018
By S.R.A. Markin
Although my quads burned nearly as bad as my lungs, it was the pain that lit a fire under my ass to get up the hill. It is the younger me, the vulnerable me, the me that YOU held down and kicked. I motivate me. Not you, YOU pricks, YOU pieces of shit.
And when you are in need of help, look deep within and pull on your weakest moments, the times you have grown from. Not you, YOU pricks, but you who have suffered under the actions of others.
Fuck YOU, said the boy who cried himself to sleep.