Am I awake?
Still breathing?
I inhale.
Yep.
I open my eyes slowly. Letting them adjust to the intense brightness creeping through the window. Its warm under the blankets I have enveloped myself in. Why should I leave them now? Oh yeah, I remember. Because we all wake up, get ready, spend hours doing things to keep us busy, then go back to bed. Whats the point? We are all going to die anyways. Why should we waste time doing things for popularity or fame, when it wont even matter?
I sigh, then sit up in my bed. The white sheets left at a comforting temperature from my body as I slept. As I yawn and stretch, I make the long treck off my bed. My toes touch the soft, yet slightly scruffy carpet floor. Without looking, I can identify the small stain directly next to my bed that was made by the coffee I spilled several days ago.
How unfortunate.
Now is the time when somebody would get ready for work. But I had better plans...
YOU ARE READING
If Only There Were Options
Teen FictionLooking over the edge of a bridge, you might be scared. But some people find comfort testing the chances of death. Knowing deep down inside, you could be seconds away from the plummit to the end.
