Thnks fr th mmrs

I Don't Care

                                  \\\Reader P.o.v//

           I stretched my (s/c) arms up to the ceiling, a loud yawn squeezing itself out of my lips. I pulled in another late nighter. Of course, not at work, on doodles.

             I worked at a little gaming store down the street, that sold CDs and anime/comic book merchandize along with video games and gaming systems. I loved the job, and it paid enough to get by, I just wish I could do what I really wanted to do. Art. But ever since high school and college, my ambitions to do so deluded.

             Today I had to be down there by 1, and to my luck, it was 12:26. Just enough time. I kicked the (f/c) sheets to the side, and planted my soles onto the hardwood floor. Stumbling like a zombie to the bathroom, I was really starting to regret my midnight doodle session.

        I opened the bathroom cupboard, and fished around the shelves until my fingers came in contact with a sleek bottle. they were my antidepressants. I popped one in and chugged a glass of agua, while fumbling for the brush and my toothbrush.

              Facewash wasn't needed ever since I had cleaned up my pimples, and dandruff wasn't a worry either. However, the ugly stayed. Being the great multitasker that I was, I brushed my birdnest of a hairdo and brushed my pearly whites concurrently. Don't look as ugly today as yesterday.

             I threw the brushes back to their homes and slammed the cupboard door, the mirror obtaining yet another crack due to my aggressive sleep deprived nature.

           I scampered back into my bedroom, throwing open drawers for attire to wear. Most of it was black and (s/f/c), two hues that I have come to love from my favorite genre in music, Punk rock. I love such bands as Panic! at the disco, My chemical romance, and my all time favorite, Fall out boy.

        God I love them. From their heavy guitar to their catchy beats. Oh, and his voice. The voice of an angel, Patrick Stump. I would sell a kidney on the black market to meet that man.

       Sure, he looked pretty average. But what he lacked in looks went to his personality and voice. His band received the most attention, having more posters of fob that any other band I listened to. Subconsciously, I pulled out my old fob shirt with a giggle. They could make any day better.

            I snatched a pair of black formal dolphin shorts and ruffled my (h/l) (h/c) hair, searching the room for my headphones. I threw my nightshirt off as I stumbled around, tripping a couple times on things I had on the wooden floor.

        The were on my dresser, as usual. Once my arms slipped into the little sleeves, I hopped on one leg as I was slipping into my short trousers. Once I reached the drawer and had it in my clutches, I ran beside my bedroom door so I could adorn my (f/c) converse. ((sorry guys I'll stop here cause I got bored))