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~Louis'~
2 years. 2 fucking years since that bastard left me. Helpless. Alone. I hate him. He left with my heart. Teared it from my chest. I finish my 4th bottle. Throwing it across the wall. I don't give a fuck. No one does. I'm supposed to be at my apartment. I lift my head and look at the moon. Shit. It's late. I drag myself out of the alley, head my way into a deeper part of hell. Listening to my footsteps hit lightly against the concrete. What am I going to do with my life? I ask myself everyday. I never answered my own questions, afraid of what the answer will be. What will tomorrow be like? Where will I end in a month? I just wanna drive away from all this. But I can't. I don't know where to go. England is my home even if I have no life here. People walk by , I immediately look down at my feet. I'm ashamed of revealing myself to the world. I don't want people seeing how fucked up am I. They can see my empty soul in my lifeless eyes.
I open the door to my apartment. Hearing no sounds. I shouldn't expect any company this late at night. No one will stay up at 11:00 p.m. to care about me. I slam the door behind me. Who gives a shit if I wake the neighbors. I throw myself on the torn couch. I'm barely here , why buy new crap if no one is here to see it. The walls seem to come closer. Or is this an illusion? Is my whole an illusion? I pinch myself , desperately wanting this whole thing to be a nightmare. Only results are blood. A little opening in the skin won't do harm. The alcohol is flooding my veins. Making my eyelids droop. This is the only way I can fall asleep. I lay myself down into an uncomfortable position. I'll be focused on my headache instead of my back in the morning. Cheers to tomorrow.
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Aaaah! I hope you like it. Sorry for making it sad. But its part of the plot.
Louis walking is attractive
