pondkid

it's days like these i wonder if i'll ever be happy. every time something good happens for me something comes along to take it away. so i'm left with my material possessions my vague talent and blurry future weak relationships and pointless money a feeling of trapped emptiness and the dull pang of the thought in my head "i'm not meant to be happy."

Crawling into bed, I know I won't be able to sleep. Even after I chewed and brushed and bathed and rushed, I won't be able to shut my eyes and get them to stay there. And oh, my back hurts. Maybe it's like they told me, you're gonna end up like this if you keep sitting that way. With a blatant gesture to themselves, and a flick of the eye muscles on my end, I carry on. I'm trying to sit up straight, but I can't. There's something pushing on my shoulder. I turn around, its bottomless-pit eyes staring, GLARING back at me. "What the fuck could you possibly want with me now?" The words spit from my mouth like fire. It speaks in a gravel-crunch