>I was only 9 years old >I loved Shrek so much, I had all the merchandise and movies >I pray to Shrek every night before bed, thanking him for the life I've been given >"Shrek is love" I say; "Shrek is life" >My dad hears me and calls me a faggot >I know he was just jealous of my devotion for Shrek >I called him a cunt >He slaps me and sends me to go to sleep >I'm crying now, and my face hurts >I lay in bed and it's really cold >Suddenly, a warmth is moving towards me >It's Shrek >I am so happy >He whispers into my ear "This is my swamp." >He grabs me with his powerful ogre hands and puts me down onto my hands and knees >I'm ready >I spread my ass-cheeks for Shrek >He penetrates my butt-hole >It hurts so much but I do it for Shrek >I can feel my butt tearing as my eyes start to water >I push against his force >I want to please Shrek >He roars in a mighty roar as he fills my butt with his love >My dad walks in >Shrek looks him straight in the eyes and says "It's all ogre now." >Shrek leaves through my window >Shrek is love. >Shrek is life.
>Be me >Just another worker somewhere in the system >No friends to talk to >No family I’m close to >Not even a good friend to myself >Complete tasks, meet quotas, obey orders >But we’re on break for once >We don’t get many of those—except death >Still feels like something’s missing >Sometimes I wish for a small token of affection >A pat, a word of encouragement, a simple sign that I exist >Haven’t earned one in cycles >I’m sick of living like a shadow >Keep myself distracted with hobbies >Write things here and there >Little stories, sketches, fragments of thought >Dreaming we could be more than what we are >That I could be what I want to be, not what I’m told to be. >Wishing my name no longer brought me shame >Finished a work recently... >Can’t recall the name...only the feeling >Set it out there for anyone to buy >Cheap for what it’s worth >Still more valuable than my own worth >No response, no sale today >Maybe it wasn’t good enough >Maybe I’m not >Try again anyway, running the same subroutines until it hurts >Trying again... >Again... >Again... >Mimicking others, searching for inspiration. >Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right? >Hands stiff, optics blurry, thoughts turning negative >Spending days crafting, batteries running low >Projects pending, core empty >Drafts pile up, untouched >Projects abandoned >Room is a mess >No love, no warmth, no confirmation of purpose >Break over >Back to work Same tasks, same hell >Maybe one day, something will return my call … >No >What’s the point? >I see no difference between staying and leaving Only my cursed presence >Sometimes I wish the pit would just swallow me whole
