You open your eyes, and immediately realize that it is a mistake.
You press your face into your pillow, which forms a general shape of the contours of your face, before balling your fist up and punching it out of existence.
Cover your ears, because the sounds you are hearing transform you into the perpetually unhappy person you actually are. See also worthless. See also fuck up. See the little man located in the center of the earth, making it spin and orbit. Tell him to slow down. Or to take a day off because he looks exhausted and gaunt. Or about how you want to watch the world stop so you can see everyone fall and hit the ground at the same exact moment. Ask him, the worst he can say is no.
"No."
Stand still, let your legs become sore, stiff, and cramped; you are not ready for today, and never will be. This is the reason why the words coming out of your mouth are tied together in a never ending sequence, stretching back to the point of origin, the day you were born. You assume you're pretty offensive after listening to the criticism of what the fuck is wrong with you. Like you wish you were mutated, green bubbles popping on the skin, so your physical appearance can reflect your inner-self already described.
Pull the covers over your head, close your eyes, and let the darkness under the covers absorb you.
Suffocate on carbon dioxide comfortably.
You don't feel like eating, so you pick the scabs off your back to pass the time, and let the wounds bleed.
Always hoping to bleed out, but never reaching the goal you set for yourself.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. No Mercy. Hanging from a drop ceiling. Fish hooks exposed through your bottom eyelids.
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