Twenty-seven years of pain stored in a computer and carried around on my back-- a tyrant running my life while I bore him. I couldn't be free as long as he lived, and even though only on paper, his words choked the life from my God. He had to die. And I killed him. I'm not going to celebrate his completion though--instead, a burial and a small memorial service for the man who should have been dead years ago. I wonder if I'll miss him.
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