Self

A really really short (700 words) story about finding yourself while sitting across the desk from an incomprehensible monster.

I legitimately wrote this in two hours after midnight because I had a lot of emotions I needed to vent and the only way I know how is writing a barely comprehensible short story in a single draft then publishing it on the internet.

I don't expect anyone to pay attention to this, as far as i'm concerned its a piece of garbage, but its my piece of garbage. That means something right?

(Fun fact I was in such a fugue state while writing this I didn't even bother proofreading it. I'm a monster, I know.)