The next day, I woke up feeling like I had to prove something. My head banged from the huge laceration on my skull. I shuffled my way to the bathroom and stared into the mirror.
"This is your day," I encouraged myself. I didn't quite know what I was going to do, I thought to myself as I brushed my teeth, but it had to be drastic. It had to be something demeaning, yet, bloody. Let me stop, because I know I'm starting to sound crazy right about now. I don't want to KILL anyone. I just want to kill those big EGOS that they carry around over their blown up heads.
