my little tiny head bobbing up and down in the sight, then pop. a spatter of brains and goo and bits of skull, but probably not that much brains as i have decided i no longer enjoy thinking and have become stupid, or for those who know me, stupider. if that is even a word. that's how i'd like to go. just never see it coming. happily prancing in the street and traffic stops suddenly to watch the inside of my head become the outside of the street. although, i rarely ever prance, and god only knows if i'll ever be happy. so for the most part this must be fiction. anything but a self inflicted death seems unrealistic at this point. come on, i dare you. do i even have a little head? see, lies. and bad ones. why can't i lie about anything cool? oh torment, why do i suffer thee so? and why do we not hear anything about marmalade anymore?