Scratch, scratch, scratch. It's all I can hear. The walls are coming down. Or at least the wallpaper is. It rips off and slowly floats down, like a leaf in the cool summer brease. How I can even remember a summer grease is something I do not know. But I'll find out eventually. It really doesn't matter now.
My clothes are sweaty. I have been in this hell for who knows how long. My mind is forcing every single drop of fluid to leave my body. It makes me thirsty and at the same time, I'm too stubborn to drink anything. I want, and I will stay in this position until it's all over. If I have to be honest I don't even know if this is even going to be over.
I still hope for it tho.
YOU ARE READING
The door at the end of the hall.
RandomHow does it feel to be loved by everyone, and not to be hated? How does it feel to be perfect, with no scratches? How does it feel to have everything you could wish for? How does it feel to be in a loving relationship? How does it feel to be lonely...
