writing (part 1)

Blood drips. Regularly. Drip. Drip. Drip.
I can't see, but that's ok, i don't want to see. I don't want to know. I'd rather be blind than watch my friends die while i'm helpless.
Something deep inside me vomits at the thought. Puking disappointment all over my insides.
Painting with internal disgust. I try to move my arm, but it's stuck, and a sharp pain runs down the cuts on my forearm. My throat twists to scream but locks. No sound slips out my bruised vocal chords. i lift my fingers to my eyes and scrape away the dried blood.
Cold and congealed, it's long since left the body it came from, probably mine.
My left eye won't open, it feels swollen to the size of an apple, but my fingers find only a small lump for my eyeball.
My right eye opens, flaking some dried blood off my eyelid.
No depth perception.
No sense of reality.
I know it's a dream.
Right?
There are three dead bodies in front of me. I don't know any of them, the only sign of their death is the gunshot wounds through all six temples.
Holes like jesus's wrists.
Slowly oozing black thick blood.
i press my palms against the wet floor and pry my crushed and twisted body up from it's collapse.
All of the pain ive ever felt comes crashing down on my physical body, and i can stand
Barely.
The pain gives me motive.
gives me anger
gives me strength
it always has.
My hat is still pristine
Hanging from the doorknob that marked one of the exits from the room.
My name is not Leonard Shelby, so i ake time to recollect my memories. To gather the shards that really were my whole tired person.
I put together the outer shell of a Human. Me.
Who i am is defined by what I have done. What have I done.
and why.


That's as good a place as any to end. so far i haven't said anything. I guess i do that a lot.

maybe the intro to an exciting story, maybe not, gimme some feedback you think i should go fantasy/epic tale? or dark and dreary? or sci-fi twisted world? or any combo of them? or real depressing life? gimme options.