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The Success System

classy_fied
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
He'd been cheated, manipulated, beaten, ignored, stepped on, underestimated, humiliated, defeated time and time again, and now, on his death bed, as he lay dying in a pool of his own blood, as he writhe furious over his own murder, he swore to heaven and hell, the divine and the demonic, the weak and the strong, that that shit, was changing, today. and I gotta say, thanks to sheer luck, and a wish made in sincere burning hatred, I can guarantee with absolute confidence that the world, was not even REMOTELY ready for the cunning, lethal, stupidly relentless, and unfortunately for them, seductive snake, it had unleashed upon itself. cause one thing no one likes to admit, is that monsters, villains, aren't born, they're made. and they'd just made the serpent who'd coil itself around the world, and strangle it until life as they knew it, had drained from their eyes.
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Chapter 1 - is that so much to ask for?

this isn't fair.

THIS ISN'T FAIR!

THIS ISN'T FAIR!!!!!!!!!

THIS ISN'T FAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I could hear my own voice screaming inside my head at the top of imagined lungs.

I almost chuckled, had it not been for the fact that my lungs stopped working, and no longer existed.

I mean, how was I supposed to know?

HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!

HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!?!?!

HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

I barely remember thinking as I felt a cold wave crash against my fingertips, and then arms, and ever so slowly, my chest.

I was dying.

I knew I was dying.

I'm experiencing me dying.

I wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream, shout, violently tear limb from fucking limb the bastard who did this to me!!

I expressed silently, with nothing more than a single tear falling down my expressionless, motionless, life fading cheek.

that, until now, across my entire life, had been slapped, spat on, pushed aside, ignored, abandoned.

looked at like less than, and never as enough, or more than.

to the world, I was shit, to the people in my life, a waste of space, to luck, something to kick and laugh at when it refuses to give up.

I began fuming, began mentally sobbing with what little electrical sparks between neurons that continued and would continue to fade until nothing else was left but darkness.

I was slowly ceasing to exist, in a world where I never truly existed in the first place.

I was a smudge on the canvas that was now being wiped away by a painter who never wanted me there in the first place.

an afterthought, no, not even an afterthought.

because afterthoughts still get thought about.

and I.

I don't.

I realized with a sinking horror that, my death wouldn't even be investigated, my killers never caught, never punished.

never held accountable for the horrible thing they did.

and it didn't even matter.

I couldn't accuse them, and even if I could, no one would take my side.

there were no witnesses, no evidence, and there's barely anything left of me as it is, I left no mark, I don't even have most of my torso, my heart is on the ground next to me, I could feel it touching my ear, before all feeling stopped working, as my brain abandoned my nerves to try and survive for as long as it could.

I would have laughed, if I could.

I thought with slower and slower speed.

my brain was now dying too, I figured with more calm than the situation called for.

I mean, I should be pissed, outraged, protesting, and yet here I am, silently slipping into the nothingness I'd always lived in.

I was nothing to my parents, nothing to my friends, nothing to exes, nothing to bosses, strangers, the world.

in the grand scheme of things, nothing was changing.

nothing.

nothing.

NOTHING!

NOTHING!!!

NOTHING!!!!!!

I wanted to huff, shout, screech, proclaim at a volume that would tear my vocal cords.

that would prove that I, that I exist.

[you do exist]

a suddenly appearing screen read in glowing silver text.

[you've failed your entire life, tell me, with a second chance, would you succeed?]

it asked.

to which, I responded with the only thing I had left, my thoughts, (succeed? I would make it to where no one else had any other choice but to fail, I will make success my bitch, you hear me?! I swear to god if you give me a second chance this world will regret it! everyone else will know what it feels like to fail, to be ignored, humiliated, abused, I will do anything I can, anything, if I could become a girl, I'd sleep with them and ruin their life with blackmail and assault accusations, if I could live forever I'd create monopolies that oppressed my enemies, if I could gain any power I wanted, I'd show the" strong" just how fucking weak they are!........)

I trailed off, knowing full well most of that was anger talking.

(but most of all, all I want, besides revenge, besides justice, is to be noticed, is to be human, to be loved and acknowledged as valuable, is that really so much to ask for?)

I somewhat remember thinking as the last few tears I had left, as well as the jolts of energy between neurons in my brain, finally ceased, and everything went black.