[ WP ] Reddit finally secured funding to build a vast metropolis in its likeness . It is broken up into boroughs and cities , which represent subreddits . Every aspect of this mega city has been designed specifically to cater to and sustain millions of redditors . Describe your experiences here .

I wore a hat. I have a beard. I lost my backpack when I was thrown to the floor. But they do n't care about that... those monsters never cared about anything but their own greed. 
 
 So now I dictate my last will and testament on a cracked cell phone in the bathroom of an abandoned office building. I'd write it, but my eyes are still blurry from crying. 
 
 The ringing is starting to go away. I was so close when that thing went off... I could n't hear for hours. I could only see the people, and the parts of people, covered in read and falling apart. I could only smell the gunpowder and the sickening, putrid, sweet smell of burning flesh. I could only taste the dust of the rubble which flung into the air, doubling the size of the explosion. I could only feel the adrenaline in my blood, forcing me to get to safety. 
 
 That adrenaline wore off soon, and was just as soon replaced by a sharp pain where something had hit my ankle. That pain had been my truest companion today, never leaving my side, never backing off, never letting me fall into a sleep from which I likely would never wake up. We're bosom friends, this pain and I. The best friend I ever had. 
 
 The ringing is almost gone, but its far from quiet. I can hear them, bashing at the door downstairs. Thump, thump, thump. Wo n't be too long now, and there's no way I can run anymore. 
 
 I hear their voices, too. Shouting about me, about the bomb, about all of it. They're shouting my name... must have been leaked by someone who recognized me. That's what really burned when I tried reading the news on this phone... They're all so certain I did it, that I'm the monster who killed all those children... Do n't they get that I'm hurt too? Do n't they see I'm *bleeding*? No, no, no. None of that. Just a bunch of blurry images of me in a hat. Backpack on. Boom. Backpack off. Running away, he must be guilty! Running away, what's he got to hide? They're all so *certain*... that's what really burns. I ca n't read anymore through the tears, but that's alright, I know how the story ends. 
 
 I die. Happened before, it'll happen again. Two weeks later, my name gets cleared, my mother gets some flowers, they wash the spit of my grave. Not that it matters. I've been convicted by my countrymen of crimes too heinous to even imagine. They do n't need a judge, they let a mob serve as jury, and the lucky hound who finds me first gets the distinction of being executioner. 
 
 So long, world. I hope you read this one day, and I hope you realize that you're the monsters you tried to hunt.
