I think to much, I mean way to much, I think to the point of exhaustion, until I’m physically tired and my joints are sore and my eyes burn. I think so much to the point that I get a throbbing pain right between my eyes, that’s why I always pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m a thinker, not so much a talker when I feel like that. I have a lot to say, but only to those who will listen. You know now that I think about it… people never want to hear what anyone wants to say, they only want to hear the sounds of their own voices. Majority though, not everyone. There are those people, who will pretend like their listening, you can tell too, when they nod and say ‘mhm’ or ‘ oh yeah’. They don’t care, no one cares. So for the thinkers, I get why they write, or etch their names on building or bathroom stalls, or paint. They want to be remembered, to leave their mark after their long gone. No one listens, but some do see.
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Tales of the Lost & Forgotten
TerrorMultiple short stories bunched together for your deight to read (: I'll add here and there to chapters, if you have specific requests for what story you want another chapter to comment on that chapter, or pm me. But like the title says, these are fo...
