Stay With Me..

Essay

The only thought on my mind at the moment is how the fuck I'm supposed to word this awfully written essay. It's an essay on how the pollution in our world will slowly force ourselves to death and away from our own home. Earth being the home I'm referring to. I agree with the topic but I do not enjoy homework, never have. It's useless in my opinion.

My mind begins to wander to what I could've been doing all this time. I could be saving the world or something much more important than a stupid essay on possible(i) ways to save the world. What if I was an important person in the repetitive and death-filled planet we call Earth? What if I was actually out there, living my life the way I've always wanted?

Alas, that could never happen. Ever. It's just impossible for me. I don't like that word considering, in the grand scheme of things, nothing is necessarily impossible. But it is out if reach of my sad, little, pathetic life. You only live so many years on this floating rock and sometimes importance just isn't meant for you. I guess I'm one of those people.

I quite thinking about my dilemma and the fact that I'll never fulfill my "dreams" in life, getting up from my wooden desk and slowly walking over to my low-rising bed. My safe space, the place I can stay and rot for my whole life if I wanted.

Rather than doing just that I pick up my cracked phone and go on Twitter. Seems like some people are having fun typing and posting about the new Danganronpa episode.

Danganronpa is a personal interest of mine. Something I've enjoyed for years, it's gotten me through things that I'd rather not bring up at this particular moment in time. I've had enough Twitter for one day, I honestly can't stand that app. Personally I just use it to get updates on my favorite murder mystery show and then leave it alone for a couple weeks at a time, possibly a month if I'm lucky. That app slowly kills off more braincells the longer I spend on it.

Getting up once again, I walk to my slightly ajar door while the floorboards creek beneath me. Opening the door even further in order to leave my dark and comfortable room, I spot my cat. His name is Oliver.

I pick him up, his mixed fur colours decorating my face in escaping fuzz. That's the only thing I don't like about having pets. They're messy, and not in the good way. Not in the comfortable chaos way, no. In the way that fur gets all over your face, hands, and clothes simultaneously. It's fairly annoying in my opinion. But I love Oliver too much to care about his fur.

Setting Oliver down, I walk cautiously to my mother's room. She's never been a fan of mine, always reminding me how useless and irritating I am. We don't get along very well, never have. She used to be a kind and gentle woman, but then my dad died.

My father was my entire world. I loved him so much, he was my idol. I could talk to him anytime, anywhere and he would listen. No he wouldn't just listen, he would care(i). I didn't have to walk on eggshells around him, he understood me in a way I never knew anyone could. He was a good guy. I miss him.

Mom changed so much after his death. Now she's a drug addicted, neglectful, narcissistic, abusive, piece of shit mother. I'm her only child, but that comes with blessings and curses. Mostly curses. I get all of her anger and abusive tendencies, I can never catch a break from her. Or anyone really.

Anyway, I was going into her room to see if she was actually here. Usually she isn't. Sometimes she's gone for weeks. She's often at other men's houses having sex or getting money, considering she doesn't have a job. Nobody will hire her, she isn't a reliable employee.

By looking through the small crack between the door and the wall, I see that she isn't in bed, which means she isn't home. Well, guess I have to fend for myself for a couple of days.

Quickly walking back to my room, due to being pissed off that my mother has disappeared again, I slam the door behind me and fling myself onto my soft bed. The sheets wrinkling beneath me.

I begin to believe what my mother pounds into my head so often. The fact that I'm worthless and I'll never amount to anything. That I've never been able to do anything right and it will continue to be that way. Thinking about these topics quickly becomes exhausting and I start to doze off.

The lights from my ceiling fan still beaming down to illuminate my room, I fall asleep anyway. Maybe tomorrow I can figure out how to fix that stupid essay.