Wha wha what?

You've learned by now that it's easier not to ask.
Did everyone have a good Victory Day yesterday? I did. Anyway, there was no Fiction Friday last week. Why? Hadn't I written anything? Did Math and English suddenly get wildly interesting? No. Both of those statements are, thankfully, false. It's just that...the thing I wrote was bad. Terrible. I could be responsible for deaths, not because I really pulled on people's emotions, but because people threw themselves out of windows rather than read my zero-to-angst-in-two-hundred-words unfinished short story. You want an excerpt? Are you a masochist? Of course you are, of course you are, so you must want an excerpt.
"And i just want to get away from it right now, I want to scratch and slice my skin until I can't feel it anymore and then maybe, just maybe, it'll go away and I'll be alone and everything will be fine again like it hasn't been in a long time and I can do whatever I want. I'll be free, and I don't know quite how I'll handle it."
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go puke.