Ahh, the things I think to write. All the words are bitter. Soo bitter. bitter... very. b.i.t.t.e.r. Would you like a taste of them, darling? I made it myself. I doubt you’re allergic to any of the ingredients. You’ve gorged on these things before…

Dreams are the base ingredient. They look like rainbows in the sky, a baby’s kiss, and all the simple things of life that make it the greatest thing worth having. Grown by faith and hope, they’re usually resilient in all kinds of weather and can be purchased just about anywhere. These are an essential; make sure you always have enough. They are truly important to this recipe for retribution. Crush them, and then soak them in tears for long nights at a time. (Fresh dreams always give the best flavor to failure).

After that, I added heaping handfuls of pain. Creators can never have too much of this. So, I added as much as I had available. The particular brand I had always beefs up any mixture. By itself, it has a rather intense, raw, numb taste to it, but when combined with other things, whether it is something you like or something you don’t, pain adds a kick that is beyond the description of mortal tongue. Once I decided how much to use, I mixed it in. (I always seem to be overstocked with this stuff).

Next, I used quite a few cups of sorrow. With this stuff, there’s definitely a case of “my cup runneth over.” All types of this component will work. There is grief, and another is sadness. Grief is the more preferred element. Most times, it is freer from any impurities. Of all the crude emotions, this one has the fire to burn away even the toughest of resolved walls. It often times comes in the shape of tears and/or breathlessness. Sadness is similar, but additives have spoiled its righteousness. Both can be found around apathy and depression. I took cups of these and dumped them on. (Who cares about precise measurements)?

Everything is heavily seasoned with regret. Aged with haunted remorse, regret goes with just about everything negative. There is nothing that couldn’t do with a little added zest. It usually comes free, hand in hand, with any and all of the previous elements. It’s like life’s guarantee. They come in big, small and in between, forgivable and unforgivable. Most of the time, you don’t want to have this laying around, so you try to pawn it off on someone else. Only thing is that they don’t want it either. No one does. I took mine and gratefully stuffed them in. (The sooner those are out of my sight, the better).

This leaves just one more ingredient to add to my concoction. Even so, I found I just didn’t have enough hate left. I was too tired from gathering all those other things to go out for anything else. (Hopefully, that didn’t ruin the recipe). All my resources were extinguished. I’d used up the last of everything to make this the best ever. (I wanted it to be just perfect for you).

So, after mixing everything together, I held it all together, smoldering over the fire. It simmered to a nice crisp bitterness. The smell of burning hope intoxicated my mind. When it was done, I put it up for inspection. It was ready for use, so I cut it up. As I cut, resentment oozed and gushed from the wounds. Cynicism bled from every open gash.

… And here’s the slice I’ve saved, just for you. I hope you choke and die on it.

Pieces scattered to the darkness

Leave something of yourself in my book
(if you'd like)