you calculate the pros and cons of each action, in the hopes of stumbling across a treasure that will save your life or buy more time; all you find is scraps.
broken pieces of something that was once whole.
the thought of another person finding any treasure, not even this specific one, infects your stomach with butterflies that have serial killer tendencies, and coats your skin with layers of sweat.
you haven't showered in weeks.
you haven't earned a living, which means no two story house, no in-ground pool, no heated toilet seat, no sports car at 50, no outdoor patio, no backyard barbeques, just yellow teeth, blood in your spit, a runny nose, frostbitten toes, pinned pupils, late nights alone, high, distracting yourself with sad piano music, free games on the internet, chocolate bars, a dull pocket knife, and porn; the text message and phone calls stopped months ago, and never resumed.
your heart is misfiring, and beating irregularly.
you haven't fucked a pussy or sucked a dick in years.
you have been in love, but in love with imaginary friends who are based off of real people that don't talk to you anymore.
real people scare you.
you're talking to yourself in an elevator, and the people around you suspect that your brain was lost in a storm drain a long time ago.
spitting up yellowish green shit out of your lungs and onto the floor.
trying to show off to everyone around you, while you think about tying an ethernet cord into a noose, and drowning in a dirty bathtub.
try to predict what will happen after you close your eyes tonight.
just hanging around without any inner drive or ambition.
replacing hellos with goodbyes.
unhappy.
down.
no fun.
you're not brought up at family functions anymore, your parents' explain how your older sister is to interested relatives/family friends.
you haven't done anything important ever, so why should you start now?
sorry mom.
sorry dad.
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