I am woken up by something-- something, and I leap out of bed in terror. Is this mankind come to stop me, or my own psyche in a self destruct sequence? I go out the fire escape and run through alleyways until I find the tallest building.

I enter the building loudly and make for the elevator. Their stares register far more than I would have thought, watching my pathetic scrambling-- what do they know? Are they going to tell anyone which way I went? How can they judge me, they of all people, at least half of them have had an affair and they think they can get away with it, her in the tank top she's one of them I'd bet and so is that suited douchebag, that bitch in black cuts I think and she thinks if she cuts enough she'll be special and the one with the trendy phone, so intellectual and inside such a scared little child--

This isn't me, what the hell am I doing? I've got to get myself together, thank God the elevator is empty, I don't think shit like that, I don't stereotype, I'm better than that, I don't need to imagine things about people because people always have something juicier to hide than anything I could ever imagine.

The elevator goes as far as it will go, and I exit and go to the stairs.

I leave a trail of deceit and disgust behind me, or so I think, as I crash up the steps. Are there people following me? Are there sirens pulling up to the building as I make my frantic way towards the only possible conclusion?

The door opens onto the pure white concrete and metal, the sun looking down on it and me and disappointed, so disappointed.

Who am I, to carry out this work?

How fucking ostentatious am I, to think that I am any better, to try to exterminate the rest of those like me?

I don’t want to have to deal with this anymore. It’s time to get rid of the number one, the first place rose supposing it has no thorns.