Nikki Narcosis

My laptop died. No... it was MURDERED by none other than my own kin. My little brother spilled a cup of juice on it and it freakin' exploded. I fight the urge to end his 13 year existance every time I see him but it's hard when I think of all of the things I lost. All of my novels, short stories, poems, and 9 years of research and writing on the occult. All of my MP3s, including entire discographies of the 69 Eyes, Misfits, HIM, Nightwish, Dresden Dolls, etc. What I hate more than sitting here in the public library sitting next to someone who reeks of old malt liquor and filth is the fact that my entire family was so uncaring about the situation. I honestly burst into tears when it wouldn't turn back on. It was something I hadn't done since I was in elementary school. I was considering suicide because I know there is no way to get back what words I've written for the past 9 years. I poured my heart and soul into my novels and now they're gone. A part of my identity is dead. The laptop can be replaced inthe next year or so but what was on it is now history. A history that never was. My only outlet now is folding clothes for minimum wage and vegging out in front of the TV. I have some information stored in notebooks but all of my stories were on the damn laptop. Never did I think such a thing could happen. If you are like me, please buy yourself an external hard drive and save your information. The kicker is, I have one but my older brother stole it while I was away and took it to college with him out of state. I suspect his vast collection of anime and porno is more inportant than my life's work. I'll pick up, move along and try to do it all over again. The publishers will just have to wait for me to try to sell them my crap. At this rate, I'll be okay by my 30th birthday.