The Eggs of Dementia

My typical routine in the morning was to have some toast, brush my teeth, get dressed and go wait for the bus. But on this morning I decided I was sick and not physically viable to attend school. In short, it didn’t work. My parents scolded me and knew I was bullshitting, so, reluctantly, for only the third day of what I estimated to be, at the most 720, I took my business to the place I hated the most.

Well, what more can I say? Everyone hated me, I hated everyone. Days were now counted by individual hours, and then minutes and then seconds. I had no friends; I had nothing but my dreams and my little ponies. Even the dreams, which were mostly about Rarity, would end with the beeping of the dreaded alarm clock. I had to find a way to bridge the gap; to make my dreams a reality and return to darkness, evil and pure fucking armageddon.