A prose. Yep, that’s it.


“Where the hell have you been?” A deafening high-pitched voice sneered at me as I stared at the bright screen. To whomever that annoying speech belonged to was clearly ignorant of how occupied I was as I kept typing these words. Would he or she do this to me if I were to write a last will on my deathbed, even if I were instructing my families to dispose my putrid corpse one day?

“Hey, you sick for too long? Trapped in your asylum?”

“Uh, as if. I know my way around my asylum, dummy!” I raised my voice at her, my eyes still glued to the screen that was slowly killing my already-defected eyes.

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