a new story
#2 of short stories
what do you think of this? should i continue it? leave a comment!
I used to be able to get it. Now it just feels like I'm a stranger again. I really want it to be just a phase, but it won't seem to go away when you grow up. The pain just seems to get buried under work and other pains. If only I could put my finger on it, describe it with words but I always seem to be leading myself somewhere else. Sometimes I sit at my desk and wonder who I am. I'm not one of them, and now I have made the realization that I am far from being as twisted as I thought I was. It seems like I just can't speak when I really want to. That's what it is. Or maybe not. I'm just a looser sitting at a desk hoping people will like what he fiddles around with all day, but as Eminem says it; it's all just different ways of singing the same old song.
He closed his notebook, and wandered his eyes across the room; contemplating on all the memories that had accumulated over the years. He thought of how much he missed M, and how she barely knew of his existence. Whenever he was near her, her radiant energy would be so infectious, giving him the power to push on towards the next day. But the emptiness slowly consumed him. He had nothing ever since she died, nothing to hold on to, no dreams. To make matters worse, he was a human.