(no subject)
How sad it is when your life has been reduced to this, a single-room apartment containing no more than a mattress. How sad when the strings have been removed from the blinds and all of the outlets have been painted over. And the television screen is streaked with blood, smeared by your knuckles, as if you were trying to punch it out but you underestimated it's strenght... or maybe you just weren't trying hard enough. Startled by a knock on the door, you get up for the first time in two days to answer, but you can only greet your visitor with one statement: Hello my first name is distance and I really don't care if I wake up again...
Its not mine, but it sums it up.
Its not mine, but it sums it up.