Cold. The empty feeling of cold nothing tangles and controls my mind. Why am I such a piece of shit? I’m so tired of this feeling.
What would happen if I didn’t feel this? Why do I feel like I deserve this feeling?
The snow covers the world is a heavy winter blanket. The wind makes the air colder than anything else. I think it’s around 20 degrees.
I consider the thought of collapsing and letting the frostbite consume me. Death seems more warm and welcoming than continuing to exist in the cold. I feel the need to continue walking towards my destination, but really there’s nowhere I belong anymore. I should really just die. That’ll be nice for someone like me.
The white wonderland has a way of making me feel alone. The desert is full of vacant, hot sand; winter is even more full of lonely, cold frost. Forget this. This sucks.
What If I was burning alive in the desert instead of freezing to death? Hopefully it’ll be quicker. If I convinced my legs to stop moving for long enough then maybe I could’ve slipped away already. Man, what a world.
I see the bridge that holds the highway above the Earth. I slowly make my way there and crash on the concrete ground. I think I'm going to die here. I wouldn't mind to. It's nice, the sound of the passing cars above me has a comforting effect on me.
The air is starting to become warm. Maybe it is the end; I can only hope.
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Unfinished Short Stories
Short StoryA collection of random "short stories", aka things I wrote without meaning and never finished.
