(no subject)
Hello, this is Mr.Fletcher. I am currently residing in a homless shelter at Avenue 15 in Calgary. I have tried working 2 full time and slowly lost it as a result. Everytime I go to work, I am harrased by crazy ing lysol sniffing hobos. Calgary Hobos are not as nice as back home. The depression I am feeling is beyond description. Nothing I have ever felt could be used as comparison. It's not a depression where you sit in the dark and cry. It's a kind that eats away at you. It's the kind where you look around, and all you feel is this urge to every single ing person you see. Kill kill kill. Everything else all seems so trivial now. Love, angst, misery. All of it seems so empty. So ity ity empty. The very soul of humanity just seems gone to me. There's work, a place to stay, and the work to support a place to live. No friends here. No family. No lovers. No home. And all I can do is keep working in this mindless state I have entered. The only time where any humanity enters mne is at night. Where my only solace is found within the desperate lonliness that stalks me. Thoughts of a life that seems so ing to me. A life I miss. A life when I was just a teenager. Not a miserable working man who has nothing and no one to care for. I miss you guys...
This is Mr. Fletcher. A lonly boy scared less by how unafraid he is of his impending detachment from reality. . At least I'm taking care of myself.
What if I could go to sleep for days. Would you count the hours? Or would your restlessness console, faded memories of me
This is Mr. Fletcher. A lonly boy scared less by how unafraid he is of his impending detachment from reality. . At least I'm taking care of myself.
What if I could go to sleep for days. Would you count the hours? Or would your restlessness console, faded memories of me