Chapter 7

The Manual

How to kill a monster

Is not that easy, life should sometime have a manual, a list of how to make or undo certain events that leads up to endless of excuses, because sometimes it´s too late to correct the passages of an inside.

I have always had this highway and a one seated car, and I have driven and driven without maps or direction, because I always thought that I would pick up a friend or two, but my journey have almost always been in solitude, far, far off from the proper affection, I have never made an detour to change the direction. It has been as that lame expression: My way or the highway, how stupid and foolish is I?

An idiot you shall answer, a complete halfwit, the inbred of loneliness, nothing more nothing less, and the saddest part, I got it my way, on my own fancy little highway. You see, my life has always been a journey through the suburbia of nothingness, ever since I stabbed that monster of happiness in its unprotected underbelly, clean open from throat to tail. I have traveled thru the world with nothing but myself and a package of defected dreams.

The day when I killed the monster, I sang and I danced as it bled to death, I saw and I heard little dreams that couldn´t breathe on the pavement, but I couldn´t care less.

Why? Because I needed to, I had to have the control of disappointment; I needed to be the ruler of my own bleak presumptions.