I killed him today, he who does not exist

Falling in love with fictional characters	Five a week is okay	humanity is continuously going through unprecedented changes	Show me your art and I will consume even the smallest part of you, he said.
In my spare time, I enjoy the occasional murder	I hate myself right now	a good deal alone	Mud Brown Eyes
And nothing changed except the future	You know my history in fragments and I know your life in sketches	I've Seen It All	The one thing I cannot write
He wakes up everyday, puts an empty gun in his mouth, and pulls the trigger.	Nobody writes poetry about microbiology	Caught up	Kill Her Softly
Killing Your Own Characters	I knew enough about him to know his name and what kind of snowball he could make	Fifteen Elvish ways to die	There's nothing more depressing than an empty mailbox, especially today
Who is the third who walks always beside you?

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