While I attempt so feverishly to burn away a past I myself have created, it comes back to haunt me. Great. I feel fucking wonderful right now with a joint in my hand, eyes red, blazed all to fuckin' hell, thinking about my current situation. Let's sum it up, shall we?
Girlfriend: Have one...or maybe it's had? I'm probably too baked to either care or remember.
House: I got kicked out by my drunken-ass dad. Fuck him. I don't need him or high school at the current moment.
Money: Selling drugs works, but it's too dangerous for me. I gotta get outta here.
I cough once. Twice. Three times. The pot is really working through me right now. My head is on fire, in the good way, and my body is in the greatest state of ecstasy ever. Thank God. Who am I kidding? God can suck my dick for all I care.
I'm sitting here against an abandoned bar, smoking with absolutely no one, my black hair partially covering my eyes and my hoodie blocking out the world. All I need is weed. The rest of the shit I have to deal with can jump off a bridge and die. I glance at a puddle nearby, taking myself in. My green eyes are now blotched up with so much fuckin' red, I look like a demon spawned from Lucifer's asshole. There are black bags under them, and I look happy, but I'm not.
I haven't been happy for seventeen years. Sometimes, like at the moment, I feel like I shouldn't be living. Like maybe my purpose in life was to just die. That's it. Do nothing for this world at all and waste away in a fucking ditch somewhere. Lovely sight, right? I never used to sound so "emo". In fact, I used to be an extreme romantic. Now that I look back, it all seems ridiculously hilarious.
Carson Ames? A romantic? Fuck no. Not anymore. That part of me disappeared when my mom left, when Kayla left, when my dad decided to beat the shit outta me with a two by four pipe and left me to rot in the garage, when planet earth decided to ignore me. The moments that were good have come and gone, and where my heart is supposed to be, there's a black hole. A black hole the sucks in the misery and kills the happiness.
Girlfriend: Have one...or maybe it's had? I'm probably too baked to either care or remember.
House: I got kicked out by my drunken-ass dad. Fuck him. I don't need him or high school at the current moment.
Money: Selling drugs works, but it's too dangerous for me. I gotta get outta here.
I cough once. Twice. Three times. The pot is really working through me right now. My head is on fire, in the good way, and my body is in the greatest state of ecstasy ever. Thank God. Who am I kidding? God can suck my dick for all I care.
I'm sitting here against an abandoned bar, smoking with absolutely no one, my black hair partially covering my eyes and my hoodie blocking out the world. All I need is weed. The rest of the shit I have to deal with can jump off a bridge and die. I glance at a puddle nearby, taking myself in. My green eyes are now blotched up with so much fuckin' red, I look like a demon spawned from Lucifer's asshole. There are black bags under them, and I look happy, but I'm not.
I haven't been happy for seventeen years. Sometimes, like at the moment, I feel like I shouldn't be living. Like maybe my purpose in life was to just die. That's it. Do nothing for this world at all and waste away in a fucking ditch somewhere. Lovely sight, right? I never used to sound so "emo". In fact, I used to be an extreme romantic. Now that I look back, it all seems ridiculously hilarious.
Carson Ames? A romantic? Fuck no. Not anymore. That part of me disappeared when my mom left, when Kayla left, when my dad decided to beat the shit outta me with a two by four pipe and left me to rot in the garage, when planet earth decided to ignore me. The moments that were good have come and gone, and where my heart is supposed to be, there's a black hole. A black hole the sucks in the misery and kills the happiness.
