"Huh?" I turn around to see a boy, standing there.
"Deep shit," he points to my sort-of poem. "Why'd you write it?" He sits down next to me.
Staring at him, i reply unsurely. "Because no one knows how i'm feeling. No one cares. I'm suffocated. I have been for a long time now," i mumble loud enough for only the two of us to hear.
"Suffocated? What do you mean?" He asks.
Taking a gulp, i answer. "Suffocated it a substitute for dead. If you have been suffocated, you are dead. You die. I feel suffocated, therefore i feel like i'm dead. I feel like i'm just and empty vessel carrying no purpose or meaning," i ramble, not even bothering to cry as there would be no comfort and only looks of judgement. "Great now I'm telling a complete stranger my sap story."
"Everyone's put on this planet for a reason. You need to find yours," he says casually as if it was no big deal that he was being a deep little motherfucker. "If it makes you feel better, my name's Matt," he fold his arms over his chest.
"Yeah, i know," i roll my eyes. "Popular guy. Big whoop," i say through gritted teeth.
YOU ARE READING
Suffocated
Historia CortaIt's about a girl who feels as though she has been suffocated with everything that has happened in her life. Can someone save her before it's too late? (I really don't know what to write for this... ) (If you decide to read it, feel free to point ou...
