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'A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant taste of death but once.'
-William Shakespeare
[[An Old Room]]</style>
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'Omerta' by the Afghan Whigs shimmers to life on your phone. You know you've got to wake up. Your mouth is dry like an old shoe. Your kidneys ache from last night's festivities with Two Ton Jenny. You are less than zero.
[[Hit Snooze]]
[[Get up, boots on the ground, soldier.]]</style>
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You pound on 'Snooze', narrowly missing the empty whiskey tumbler next to the bed. Fancy crystal. Last surviving tumbler of a set of six. Maybe this is the year that you finally break it.
[[Let me dream]]</style>
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You sit up on the bed and swing your feet to the floor. 'Once you get boots on the ground, you're awake'. That bullshit piece of advice from your army lieutenant has somehow stuck. You chuckle morbidly and head to the bathroom.
[[Brush teeth, use deodorant, humanize]]
[[Check bald spot obsessively]]</style>
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You know you're gonna be late for work, right?
[[What the fuck do I care, it's a shitshow anyway]]
[[We need the money. The girls don't party for free, stud.]]
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Time passes, you fall into a deep sleep. You dream. You are free. No Hera to nag. You laugh that carefree laugh and She likes it. Maybe you'll go do an MA in Amsterdam. Why not, it's on your father's dime. You'll see her every night down in the Esplanade. You wake up at 2pm with a raging hardon. You have 5 missed calls from work.
[[Call work, offer a lame excuse and teleport to the office]]
[[Stay in bed]]
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[[Get up, boots on the ground, soldier.]] </style>
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You brush your teeth, use your mouth-wash (you don't really have much of a choice as all your teeth are filled by now and you can't afford a root canal without insurance) and overspray your still toned body with cheap deodorant. You grin at yourself. Under the right kind of shadow, you may still pass off as charming.
[[Leave for work]]
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It's gotten larger, no denying it.
[[Pathetically attempt to comb over it]]
[[Go crazy and buzz it all off, baldy.]]
[[Ignore it and brush your teeth]]
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You call Svetlana, your call center supervisor. She is 20 kilograms overweight and speaks to you through a mouthful of cheap hazelnut chocolate. She cuts you off before you even get three sentences out and demands that you be there YESTERDAY.
'Illbetheresosorrywonthappenagain' you mumble pathetically and rush out in the blind, bull-headed traffic.
[[Leave for work]] </style>
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You stay in bed. You think of the trip to Rome that you have booked with Hera. Twenty days by her everloving side. Enough to make you ponder suicide.
[[Enough of this shit, I need to get to work]]
[[Stay in bed longer]]
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You do a terrible job. Now you look both balding AND insecure about it.
[[Brush teeth, use deodorant, humanize]] </style>
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You go about your morning ritual, a million little thoughts running through your scattered mind.
[[Brush teeth, use deodorant, humanize]] </style>
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You arrive at the nondescript, soul-sucking, dream-killing PowerCall building. You put your access badge around your neck. It weights about 32 kilograms and pulls your soul to the pavement. It's dirty. You've landed on some stale cheese sandwich crumbs. You feel like yelling.
'Good morning Svetlana, did you change your hair? You look gorgeous!' you fake-beam at your boss
You want to die.
[[Pray to all the Gods below to take you and end it all, right now.]]
[[Grind your teeth and bear it, it's a few more hours only and 40 Euros in the bank.]]
[[Make lively conversation with Svetlana, best stay on her good side!]]</style>
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[[Leave for work]] </style>
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You stay in bed until 8pm. The phone rings. It's Hera. She wants to know why you still haven't showed up at her place for dinner. She is barely containing her guilt-trip sobs. You imagine her hooked nose with the fat teardrops running down it's length and what is left of your soul, withers away.
[[Buy Full Version To Enjoy The Full Extent of Our Hero's Fall]]</style>
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For a mere 19.99$, you too can find out what real horror is like! Wouldn't you like that?
[[Yes, you seem to know everything about me, I'm coming along for the ride.]]
[[Get help, loser]]
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You close your eyes and wish yourself dead for the thousandth time this week. You hope someone (or something) is listening.
[[Buy Full Version To Enjoy The Full Extent of Our Hero's Fall]] </style>
<img src="https://media.glassdoor.com/l/cd/39/ba/40/work-room.jpg">
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You spit out empty words, dead promises, pathetic reassurances. All day long, to everyone. By the end of your shift, you are a broken, hollow husk of a man.
[[Buy Full Version To Enjoy The Full Extent of Our Hero's Fall]] </style>
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Soon.
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Can't blame ya.</style>
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You go crazy with your beard clippers for about five minutes. Your bald skull emerges in all of it's gleaming, warty glory. It looks a little bit like a deflated basketball. That's one less thing to worry about now.
[[Brush teeth, use deodorant, humanize]] </style>
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'You noticed! Oh I didn't do much, you know, a woman my age needs to take care of herself!'
She beams at you grotesquely, obviously expecting more fawning praise.
[['A woman your age? You mean 28? I bet you have a hard time keeping all those boys away!]]
[['Yes, it looks even worse than usual. No wonder you live alone with six cats, YOU MISERABLE SOUL SUCKING WASTE OF AIR!']]</style>
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She beams at you, clearly pleased at your fawning, subservient adoration.
'Oh Stefane, you are such a *gentleman*, you always know what to tell the ladies!'
[[Wink at her playfully and casually walk off to the terrors of the day]]
[[Pretend to lean in closer to Svetlana in order to whisper in her ear, lose your cool at the last minute, puke violently into her new hair]]Double-click this passage to edit it.</style>
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[[Grind your teeth and bear it, it's a few more hours only and 40 Euros in the bank.]] </style>
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[[In your dreams, buddy. This is the real world. Suck it up.]][[Grind your teeth and bear it, it's a few more hours only and 40 Euros in the bank.]]