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Wenn du das nächste mal auf Amazon shoppen möchtest, könntest du das über diesen Link hier tun:
... denn wenn du über uns auf Amazon gelangst, erhalten wir bis zu 10% vom Wert deines Warenkorbs, ohne dass dein Einkauf mehr kostet.
Das gleiche funktioniert überall auf Belletristica, von den Buchempfehlungen im Blog bis hin zu Amazon-Links in Profilen.
Alles was wir so verdienen, fließt direkt in die Weiteretwicklung von Belletristica.
Vielen lieben Dank! :)
- Ben & Sebastian
I remember when I purchased an antique DVD.
The mere image of someone you know, can bring back memories of a past you wished you could forget. Time bombs has already ran out of numbers, it's only a matter of time now.
When I think of women, I think of people prettier than me. I think of people that have an easier time getting dates. I think of people that always get the best seats in a fine dining restaurant, ordering the best steak. And whenever their date brought his little best friend along, she would always avert her eyes away from the elephant in the room. Blond had always been something of indifference to me, but for whatever reason that memory stuck out in my mind. If there ever any moment where I wanted to try being a man, that ruined it. I would have preferred being revealed as trans under any other circumstance. Not that circumstance.
I remembered Emma Dunking Bowling Balls. How she had rejected me, because somehow even sure knew I was not a male.
My issues with Nordic women had started on that night. I wasn't averse to having issues with women of other hair colors, and my family had at one point wanted me to get a punching bag to settle whatever scores I had in my mind. But no amount of punching on the bag would take away the anger that was inside me. No amount of punching could take away the hate that I felt for myself, and how that blond made me feel. It was the Summer of 2014 when I purchased an antique copy of a so bad its good movie. The girl that had upset me while I was still in high school still burned inside my mind like some deranged visceral reaction.
The memory made me want to end things, all over again. I bought myself a revolver. I bought myself a coffee energy drink. I bought myself a can of lighter fluid, and went home in a wink. I got out the copy of the DVD, with that woman's face on it, the actress who long sense been dead by this point. She wasn't the blond that hurt me, but her image was close enough to the girl that I so viscerally hated.
I tossed the DVD case in the air, and shot it with a revolver. Then I dozed it in lighter fluid. Yet before decided to light it on fire, I decided to keep it. I needed a case to keep the DVD, and it wasn't exactly like it was her fault I hated blonds. Honestly she didn't even have the same name as the girl I hated.
But I decided to let the DVD remain, for one more night. I put up the DVD, then finished the drinks. Then to the world I said goodnight.
It was my antique DVD.
I was simply Pace.
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