The Flaky Derelict

Of masks, monsters and demons caged in my head.

Letters to Sarah – I – Prayers

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Dear Sarah,

I hope this virtual letter finds you in proper health,

which is probably the case, considering how you only exist in my head.


I must stop praying.

I don’t believe in the religious depiction of God, I don’t believe in miracles and I don’t believe in fate.

So what the ever-living fuck?

 Why are you here?

You’re ruining it, my scene, my book.

See, I stopped being human a long time ago.

Why? Not the slightest idea, I had a good family, a good physical and spiritual training schedule and I excelled among my peers; anything I could’ve asked for at the time. But there is always a ‘but’ [See what I did there?). But it all felt all too…Normal. I eat. I drink. I sleep. I train. I pray. I study. I. Nothing out of the ordinary. I guess one day, a decision was made to simply fuck ‘the plan’ up and stand on the precipice leading to the highway to hell. I was bored.

Still I pray.

I am addicted, you see. I am addicted to consciously choosing the worst possible action/reaction during any experience in my life and suffering the consequences of such choices. The sight of the other path was Godly, a mental orgasm. Unfortunately, euphoria got weaker, future, bleaker and the needle, deeper and deeper as I continued making properly calculated poor choices.

Still I pray.

‘You met me at a complicated time in my life’ Cliché? Probably.

Why did you meet me? I was about to give my performances in “Life- ACT II” a couple of Oscars as well as a lifetime of lack of achievement award. The theatrics were as dark and as damped as I imagined, I had lost everything and I was about to yell out to the extras, with the biggest orgasm of all, “That’s a wrap, Good work everyone”

Then you showed up. Fucking hell! I love you! Now I have to leave a lifeline for another sequel! Fuck!

And I prayed again for a God, for a miracle and for fate.

Fuck you. I want my epic drama back, it was complete the way it was, ending with the demise of the pseudo-hero.

God, if you’re around, let me end it, alone and morose like I always wanted it. Please don’t insert uncalculated elements.

Yours unfortunately,




Author: Zeus

I am the grey area, everything by choice and nothingness by choice, wherein everything is possible as it is improbable.

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