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Everyday I wake up. I try to do that everyday. But truthfully most days I don't wake up. Most days I am already awake. I leave my bed and I immediately kneel before the rising sun. I kneel in a prayer to myself and in tears to God. I moan about how nonchalant my life is. How wasted I am. I cry. I am not good but I am not bad. I am worse than both because I am nothing. I pace around my house. Once. Twice. Thrice. It keeps on like a mad dog in a dead yard. I sit and spin. The house spins with me. My tears track cracks on my full and pale cheeks that I cannot appreciate. My eyes are inflamed like an ogre. My hands are smooth like a baby. Today I am nothing again. I cannot even say such a thought, because nothing has nobody who will listen to his cries. I shriek. I caress myself. I am my own lover. I am my own warden. I am my own shackles. I am my own freedom. My forehead meets my wall and my thoughts rise to the occasion. Desolation is what Death flees from. Another day. I am nothing. I cannot leave. We are locked in. Me and mine. The child with doors that lock the wrong way grew into an adult with no doors. But the adult cannot leave all the same. The child could leave with the help only a child possesses . We cannot leave just the same. We cannot get out. I do not hold the transportation. I do not possess the skills nor the means to leave. I am a waiter. I am a dependent far beyond his time. I can never rise to the occasion. Desolation is what awaits me. Desolation is already here. Every holiday celebrated. Every acquaintance gone like dust scattered amongst the sunless sky. We weep for Mars but proudly forget Pluto. Let it know that nothing is coming. I am already here.
im 27 kisslesshandholdlessvirgin dont know to drive have no skills only liked vidya but havent liked vidya in decadewish could work in vidya but dream seems deadfamily thinks imlost cause even people outside the family call me the 'fail son' im a neet piece of shit dont know what to