In the end you will thank me.
Too much nicotine and I am so tired but I can't sleep at night anymore. 4 AM. Nightmares, nightmares, nightmares. What is most interesting about them is that they do not even seem like nightmares when I am experiencing them. After I awaken, I think about them and become wholly unnerved. The storm outside is raging on like a severed powerline -- shimmered light washes over the walls as I stand in the bathroom in front of the mirror with a pair of scissors in my hand. In my other hand, my hair pulled back into a rough, loose ponytail. My hair is so thick the scissors can barely cut through with one shot. My hair is ragged and uneven afterwards, like bamboo shoots after a fire.
Flashflood light bursts outside of my window, illuminating the reflection of my shadow on the mirror. Rain clatters against the siding outside and what I don't know is that rain is also heavily saturating my car seat. Shadows of bathroom items transposed over blue walls turned grey by darkness. Somewhere in the apartment, a Funker Vogt song plays, ends and everything is quiet except for the rain and the thunder rolling like a stampede over this simplistic Midwestern 'burg.
Flashflood light bursts outside of my window, illuminating the reflection of my shadow on the mirror. Rain clatters against the siding outside and what I don't know is that rain is also heavily saturating my car seat. Shadows of bathroom items transposed over blue walls turned grey by darkness. Somewhere in the apartment, a Funker Vogt song plays, ends and everything is quiet except for the rain and the thunder rolling like a stampede over this simplistic Midwestern 'burg.