A lonesome man sits alone in a lonely dark and secluded alley. Perhaps he was homeless- without a home if you will- but, if you knew him you knew he was a druggie. Why was he this way? Maybe you should ask him about it? He seems like the unapproachable type. Maybe that's why he's so lonely. Perhaps.
A subtle darkness engulfs the mind of a man too far from this world. Maybe that's the feeling one gets when they're like that. I wouldn't know personally, that's too far fetched for someone like me who isn't aware of anything that's going on in the world. Yeah, you just sit in your room all day at your computer, what could somebody so lazy like that possibly know?
Another day...it was pretty boring I would say. Hah...I get it, nice rhyme. You know I didn't mean for it to be like that.
Depression sucks...all my energy feels like it's fading from me. Yeah, I kind of hate it when that happens...I usually just smoke the pain away. Does that sound too edgy? Yeah it totally does...I might even laugh at you for it...
1. Maybe a list of items was supposed to be here?
What like a grocery list? Yeah, probably something along that line of thinking. I must've fell asleep again while writing it. You're awfully bad about that you know...you shouldn't depend so much on drugs.
Is it weird to have conversations with yourself like this? Maybe, I don't think I have MPD though. That's a bit of a stretch for sure. If I had multiple personalities, then that'd be really awkward when talking to someone. Well...I can't really say that sense I don't know what it's like.
This kind of just seems like a jumbled mess and less of a story. Is it too boring? I'm pretty sure most people would've clicked off by now. It's not even funny what we're doing...it's just kind of embarrassing.
Publicly humiliating myself like this is something only you'd do isn't it? Of course, otherwise why else would I post this rambling on about nothing for? Fair...
I used to hate music, now I can't stop listening to it. Is that supposed to mean something? Not really it's just kind of how it was. Did it save your life? You wouldn't believe how many times I've seen that comment...
What was I doing again...I kind of lost track of my train of thought because of your incessant babbling. I guess you were writing a story...at least that's the last thing I remember; maybe something about a tram driver?
What kind of story would that be? How many tram drivers do you even know? Awfully questioning today aren't we? Are you trying to interrogate me or something? Why do I even bother talking with you? Why don't you tell me?
What a dumb portion I can't believe I just wrote a small paragraph about literally nothing. Yeah, that one is on you. Shut up.
時に私たちは、痛みや後悔につながる過ちを犯す。肩に重い重荷がのしかかることもある。時には許されないことであり、悪魔とみなされることもある。それが人間であることの一部なのかもしれない。
What does all that even mean? I have no idea, it's probably just unimportant nonsense. Like this whole story in general? Haha, for sure!
Whoever reading this story, I don't hate you. Okay, maybe just a little. Is that too much? For sure, I mean who do you even have to hate? It's not like you even know these people.
I heard Paris is very beautiful. Too touristy for my taste. Oh yeah? Where's the ideal vacation spot for you then? Asia. You're a piece of shit. Uncalled for. Sorry.
Wait a second...I think I got it.
The tram glides along the track which glistens in the sun the street- bright from the intense summer sun- holds a myriad of different vehicles. A small family of four gets onto the train and sit near the back. As the tram slides along the track he sees the young father and mother caring for their children in solidarity. He drops the family off at a local ice cream parlor. He receives a thank you from the father who quickly exits the tram leaving the driver to his lonesome. He finishes his remaining routes for the day, seeing all sorts of people and intently watching their experiences on his shabby little tram. He reaches home and places his hat on an old coat rack. He walks into a kitchen admiring a photo of his wife. The house was so silent, that he could even hear the sound of dust flowing through the wind as he placed the photo back on it's shelf. He sat down on his living room, admiring his wooded walls and his green rug situated in the center of his humble room. He thinks back to his day on the tram, while most likely would've found his job strenuous and boring he loved every moment of it. He loved seeing the faces of new people living their lives to the fullest. He knew that life was fleeting, which only made it even more beautiful. He stands and makes his way to his bedroom. His eyes landing on the mirror situated on his dresser. He had forgotten how old he looked, it only occurred to him now how much time had passed since he had began driving the tram. But, he didn't feel depressed by this instead a sense of contentment washed over him. At least, he had played some kind of role in life. Although he may not go down in history, or be remembered by anyone at all he still was able to bring people to and from their destination each day and that was enough for him. His mind full of thought couldn't even process the haze that was invading his eyes. After all, he had a tram to catch...he couldn't miss his wife after all.
