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Subject: doop part 2
An authorís greatest struggle will always be how to begin their story. The beginning is the base from which the introduction, rising action, climax, falling action and conclusion all stem. However, I donít believe in being systematic in my approach. A great story doesnít come from carefully following a set of strict rules, and guidelines. A great story comes from something that serves as a great inspiration, and the authorís ability to coherently portray that inspiration to you, the reader. As such Iím beginning my story with the end.


I stood there, on the outside I must have looked nervous, especially given the amount that I was shaking, but on the inside I felt calm. I was sure of my decision, and this wasnít a spur-of-the-moment action. This was carefully calculated, and a well thought out plan. Like any decision, I had done a lot of planning before-hand. I had spent hours doing research and studying it. If this plan failed, then I had several back-ups. I was taught to always have at least three good ways to escape from any situation, and I didnít see how this was any different. It was hard to keep a final tear from escapingÖ I couldnít deny that the thought of never having anyone to love had haunted me throughout my entire life, and more-so now than I would ever have imagined. However, they wouldnít have an effect for much longer. My only note left behind was an apology for the mess. I had made sure to delete all of my friends from any social media, and cut off all ties with my friends and family. I had purposely put in the wrong numbers for every emergency contact, and so there was no way anybody could find out what had happened. This was it. This was the rather expected end to what was a lifetime of misery. My perfectly made noose was my last friend in this world, and my only hope was that I would never cut ties with them. I didnít let the moment go for much longer, as I wouldnít let any last voice try and argue its way out of it. I simply kicked my chair over and waited for the insufficient amount of blood flow to my brain to cause me to pass out, and eventually the lack of oxygen would hopefully kill me. My research told me it should be about a fifteen seconds before I went unconscious, and that the lethal time varied too greatly to be accurately measured, but I hoped it wouldnít be more than ten minutes. The world went dark, and my last conscious thought was only a muffled voice of regret when I thought of the only person who had ever given me any comfort in life... AND HIS NAME IS JOHN CENA!!!!!!! BUUUM BUUM BUUM BUMM!!!


Time Posted: October 7 2017 04:52 am EDT
Last updated: October 7 2017 04:53 am EDT

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