Last night, I was laying against my Heaven, AKA my three pillows set behind my back to hold me while I was alone. It was around 2-3 AM in the morning when I felt my head pounding with an unreasonable anger and desire for something. I didn't know what it was, but I felt lost. I felt like I was waiting for something far away that I couldn't get. I whispered to myself pleads of desperation for this certain thing back while kicking the sheets back. I cried out, but realized my parents would hear me, so I quickly muted like a television at the command of its remote. No one would love or care for me, so I swirled to the side in my bed and got up. I reached for the blade beside me, which so happened to be a pair of scissors. Abruptly, I fell back, my eyes losing sight of the dark room around me. My back slammed against the metal poles of my bed as I felt myself sink down. The last sound I heard was of my scissors dropping blade first onto the wooden floor below me. Just before I was caught in the grasp of sleep, one word and image flew through my head and stung me like a wasp defending its nest.
"Logan."
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Far Away, Waiting
Short StoryThis story is a brief summation of the night of May 16th, 2015 (actually the day I created this account). I had lost a friend who I am still waiting to come back into contact with to this day. Because it had only been a month since he was taken away...
