I enter my house every day, forgetting his existence and burdened with many worries that I have come to love. They distract me from thinking about him for moments... moments, but they mean a lot to me. They are my moments of comfort in my day. It is amazing how my comfort has become in my worries... but he does not allow those moments to last. He thrusts into her forcefully and shakes her.
As soon as he sees me entering the house, he rushes to hide, not to reassure me...at all...but to create a calm atmosphere for me, so my fear increases when he decides to show me his beautiful face...he does not accept to frighten me a little while I am noisy...he only allows himself to stay in his place and wait for me to sit down Quiet, completely devoted to seeing his face... And then he looks at me with his face, which I have come to see more than my face... with his small head that carries the terror of the world in its features... and the darkness of darkness in its eyes... and the masculinity of men in its mustache... and the disgust of the world with that black hair that crowds to fill everything... Space in his face and even in his body... and the cunning of the most devious of women in his yellow smile with which he revealed to me his sharp teeth that I had always seen tearing at my flesh in my dreams... and the visions of which were enough to keep me in place and make me not much different from that wall on which I was leaning..
And because he gets bored of my stillness and loves my tears as I run from one corner to another... he starts approaching me and makes me wander around the house like a madman... like a woman bereaved by her murdered son... I jump from room to room in hopes of finding refuge from him... but I am tired of searching for that refuge... there is no refuge. From him.. he reaches everywhere.. doors do not hinder him.. walls do not deter him.. he never gets tired.. he never gets tired of hurting me.. he never gets tired of pursuing me.. he never gets tired of destroying everything I love.. of destroying all my possessions.. He does not tire of destroying my clothes and food... as if his greatest victory is my death from hunger or cold... or perhaps he is waiting for me to joke and kill me, or perhaps he will eat me... but no... I do not think he eats people... but I am confident that he eats things from me... he eats my comfort and peace. .. It eats my brain.. It eats my eyes, which have become afraid to look at anything for fear of seeing its features in it.. It eats my heart, whose pulses have begun to compete as if they are racing each other.. It eats my ears, which can no longer hear anything except the sounds of its teeth as it eats everything in my house. .
But I made up my mind and decided now.. I decided to confront him.. I decided not to be afraid of him anymore.. I decided to kill him.. Yes, I will kill him.. but why do I tremble every time I say it.. I will kill him.. I will kill him.. I will forbid him the poison in my food, which he has always deprived me of. From him.. Yes, I will poison him.. If I am not strong enough to confront him, I will deceive him.. War is a deception..
I have decided then.. that this night is our last together.. it is the last night that I cry.. it is the last night that I do not sleep.. and it is his last night.. the last night that he is happy.. tomorrow I will return carrying the poison with me.. he will hide to scare me. As usual, I will take this opportunity to put poison in my food, which he enjoyed eating in front of me. He will eat it in front of me like every other time, but I will be the one who will enjoy it this time. I will see him dying and dying, then I will carry that damned person and throw him outside.
But I wanted to ask you: What is the best type of rat poison? …