Scribbling:
Tragedy
of Wanderer:
“Once he
knew he belonged to nowhere, he was home, in his own abyss, where his
narcissistic highs were enough to carry him through the days, unseen, and drunk
upon his solitude he chose to gamble with the night. He was a declared outcast,
thrown out of his castle of doom. He didn’t disappoint himself with calamity,
for losing was his genre and he handled it with ease, it only brought him
toasts from shadows he had kept in the dark corners of his skin. While people
thought to shame him for the naïve insistence, he was convinced tragedy was not
being at the wrong end, for odds are often in favor of that. It was in being at
the right end and yet finding others calling their bluff. He never desired to
win, for he found a distinct ecstasy in being the villain, one who is destined
to lose or so people thought. He felt amused at the thought. He decided to
sleep with the tragedy and make it appear like a virgin maiden.”
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