Short stories!

Daily Routine

Its late I'm bored so take some stories! Many stories until I fall asleep! Wooo! This hours Story is provided by Stay High by Tove Lo.

I stare at my ceiling, wishing I could sink into the couch. It's not physically possible but I already did it mentally. My head's somewhere unreachable, I don't even know what I'm thinking about. I'm just staring at the ceiling. I could do this for hours, and I usually do. This is how my weekends usually go.

I pull myself off the couch before I start actually using my brain and pull on some clothes. I manage to put on a green crop shirt, it's not even a crop top, it just doesn't fit and I sewed some sleeves on it. It looks decent with a camo jacket- actually, who cares about what I'm wearing? Not even I care about what I'm wearing. I call a friend and hop into their car.

I go to this one a lot, and I'm pretty sure it's a sex club. I don't recall how I even discovered it in the first place, but I did. (Be mindful I have no idea how tf sex clubs work. And refuse to google it.)

Me and my pal go to the bar, I get a drink. I down it too fast for comfort and when I tilt my head back down I have a flash of a headache. But I get another, who cares? I don't recall where my friend went, I don't even remember if they announced where they were going or anything. They're just not by me. But who cares right? It's not like I was talking to them anyway.

I've come here so many times, I'm considered a regular. Not a regular who participates with these guys, no no, a regular who watches or stands by the bar. I hardly ever get involved, there's no real point. I order a couple drinks and chug them as usual, before feeling beyond wasted and zoning out while staring at the floor.

After a while of that, not even sure how long, but I get off my ass and slugged back to the car. My friends not here. They're somewhere. They'll come back once they realize I'm not at the bar.

I don't know how long I've been staring at the floor in this car, but my friend returns. They ask me something, I didn't hear it clearly. The floor's oddly attracting. I stare at it some more.

It's a nice shade of...cream. There's some kind of carpet, I only know this because it doesn't hurt my feet when I zone out. It's comfortable. I suddenly get a wave of nausea when something shakes my shoulder. I choke it down and look over to my friend who seemingly shook Me.

"Where. Are. You. Going. Now. Casey?" They ask in a slow and annoyed manner.
I nod, "Home. Where else would I go?" I question, but instantly regret it as a thought of him fills my head. I think throwing up would take my mind off him, but I wouldn't throw up in my friends car, right? No, I wouldn't. So I stare at my shoes. My black sneakers I decided to wear because they were there. I zone out again. Mind is going somewhere I don't know. I allow it to.

My friend shakes me again, but I quickly tap their arm so they stop before causing me to puke. I look out the window to see we arrived and quickly exited the car, not wanting to barf up my lunch here. I enter my house, which I didn't take the time to lock, feeling pretty hungry actually.

I go through my cabinets before landing on a box of twinkies. I know they're gonna jack up my stomach, but who cares? After eating about three packs, I walk to the bathroom, lean over the tub, and wait for the stomach emptying demise.

While waiting I tie up my hair, then think about how he would've done it for me, and then I barf. I don't know if it was the guilt that also came with the thought or the twinkies deciding know was the perfect time for a revolution. Whatever it was, was over in about ten minutes and all that was left was bile. I clean my face and grumble.

After that I try to walk towards my bedroom, but decide the couch was closer and face planted there instead. I sigh in my empty lonely house and doze off.

This, Of course, is my daily routine. Nothing really happens before this, and nothing really happens after.