Let me tell you about his life ; That’s the way my author shared it with me. To him, I was a miserable teenager, I would not accept him because of his drunken father because I was too clumsy, modest and frugal. There was no one to contact me except because this author chose me to lose my mother, my father told me when I was pregnant - so I had no more siblings. Here, the author focuses on my reason for becoming a teenager: I became more and more confined to the overwhelming sadness of being addicted to anti-depressant ation shadows.
I just told myself that I was still in good shape. After all, I was born a character in the middle of a pandemic.
This is also where the author thought of executing his work: for me, he practices the secret guilt for which his works are still not enough, and if this is what we call "writing your time" by some who have gone much further of his larang. I couldn't greet him because I was just a member of his personal collection built and destroyed by his early days in the world of writing.
He promised me that I would not become like the stories of Milo, Tiffa and jazz; The names he gave life, but never followed. They live only as fictional characters at the beginning of their lives - they are not given a chance to see the middle, the second and the end.
Although it made me vulnerable to my father and was not shaped by the courage and strength of a man to protect me from my experiences in this world.
I nonetheless accepted the event as the ship of Kenneth the eighteen year old -. old protagonist of this story.
To be honest, I can't deny it either.
Even if it puts me in different situations: if COVID-19 will kill me, label the organization with the reason for my incarceration, or even Duterte's bodyguard, I will spit and shoot my dick after gasping his face with severed pores, I accept it . . Or, even if I suddenly realized that I wasn't the perfect man, I was hiding a cat that suddenly appeared when I shaved my pubic hair. Instead of resentment, I'd appreciate it more. Since I know myself (although the author is more knowledgeable about his practice), I have a story to follow.
SOMETIMES, I try to come to him too. As he lay down and read the current chapter of "Demon Slayer" in the pirated manga browser, I slapped him. All he has to do is drop his cell phone and talk to me.
"what you want?" It started with me.
I felt angry at his speech.
"Can you make me a woman too?" Even without breasts and a heavy ass.
"Why should I do this for you?"
"Aren't you giving me freedom of expression?" What if I'm gay and depressed?
"What if I became a trans woman and had fun? Will you deny me?"
"You are not the character of this story. Writing is not in my plan," he admitted.
'Honestly, you'll be in the glass near you. So can you end me with the original feed of my story? I shouted in my head.
This strength is enough to hurt my head all night. I also hit his right chest until he felt intolerable pain. At that time, my relationship as a writer / character began to fade. He also didn't talk to me for two days and didn't look at the notes.
His Majesty is just lying on the bed of a fake Euratex. Akash painted the darkness from his room, not sure if it was afternoon or evening. He could not even tell how the young man felt. Feeling on the chest, dizziness.
Kenneth rubbed his senses, wondering if he was being transported, added to the list of side effects of antidepressants. He tried to wet my mouth but no saliva came out of his tongue. He looked around the area, trying to remember how he got here. During their investigation, a bottle of water and two empty Xanax bottles appeared on the table.
Somehow Kenneth made his way to the dresser.
There he saw a strange world in an old mirror that my mother had. Is there a world inside the mirror? Little did he know, perhaps the author had the ability to turn words into locks until they were in the mirror.
Before he could read and verify the secret inside the mirror, his bastard father went inside. Intoxicated by alcohol, the smell of wine mixes with its dry saliva, semen and the smell of a mistress. As is expected throughout history, his father spent his salary on evil. The old man was still squirming, clearly widening his nostrils at what he was doing.
As Kenneth's father peacefully ate fried fish, the young man was concerned about what was happening. He literally shuts his mouth every time he strays from the course of the original story. Every time he crossed the street, the spines on his neck seemed to curl around him. He grabbed his mouth, stroked it, and confirmed whether the author had unknowingly sewn it on. At the author's discretion, this did not happen.
They welcome people from their community. She wore a mermaid dress so she could swim in such a world. He also had most of what served as his device for inhaling water. When wearing the dress, the mermaid asked her if she wanted to wear an apron on her chest and long hair.
Kenneth was surprised at this. How did people in this world know what my heart was about? There was no answer. Reluctantly, she chose a purple apron and wore sorrel hair. He saw himself in the mirror of the castle. I was a very beautiful mermaid, she wanted to scream, but Kenneth just thought about it because she knew the original story wouldn't allow her.
They continued to inspect the lock glass until they reached the next floor. The third floor of the castle is reserved for the government. The rules and platforms are specific and correspond to the diplomatic response of the jurisdiction. Here, too, some crimes are brought to justice, especially since criminal cases are rare in this area. In the story of any mermaid, there is only excess sembroxi (or eating fish and mermaid in this world) and entering. Kenneth was not allowed to see the fourth and last floor. It is said that he is very close to the terrible world and could potentially spoil his community.
Thankyou for reading!
