The fugtard did not die.
He fell from such an incredible height, and like a disgusting smelly cockroach, he did not die.
But at that moment, that fact was merely like a tiny footnote on a piece of paper that was burning away in a fire that was burning down my room full of vintage collector cards and other hobby stuff.
I noticed it, and couldn't give any less sh*t about it.
My mind was teetering on the edge of insanity at that moment due to the indescribable pain I was experiencing.
It was all I could think about.
Above me, below me, around me, within me, everywhere on me was bright, slicing, burning, crushing, destructive pain.
I closed my eyes and just surrendered to the pain.
I would say more on this topic, but it wouldn't really matter. Words fall horribly short in its ability to make people understand that feeling.
There is just no equivalent pain which I could point at and say "oh it's something like that."
