Mere sadness seeped from his every pore. Life had one goal: to make this man feel miserable. His eyes were swollen from tears. The gloomy weather matched his moody, and his shitty sweater. It seemed irrelevant that he had been succeeding in everything he had been doing recently, because in this moment, at this exact time, failing everything may even make the situation more predictable, and less heartbreaking and painful. His usual intelligence, and need for perfection failed him at this moment; perfect grammar and punctuation couldn't help him outbreak from this position. The godawful vocals of his favourite band couldn't bring the usual grin to his face. He was a lost cause, and he couldn't do anything about it. His depression acted as a glue, and he was unquestionably stuck to his sweaty, old, duvet. The unexpected had caught him off guard, and he was never going to be able to repair his wounds, but did he really mind?
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Sorry for the crappy story
If you haven't noticed, I have given up writing, but I needed to get some stuff off my chest, so here y'all go x
-Amy x :D
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Short Stories
Historia CortaAlmost 200 short stories to get your blood pumping, your skin crawling and your mind racing. Nostalgic, interesting, current, real-life experiences in a creative form. *disclaimer: some of these short pieces reference issues such as mental illness...
