ascension

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[this is just, a shitty attempt at surrealism that i wrote while i was in foster care idk.  im dumb of ass and i dont know how to write here u go]

It has been raining for months on end, but you can't remember how many. You have not seen another living human in person. The only things that keep you company, are the worms you have collected, and your digitalized friends.

You constantly hear the faint sound of TV static in your house. Yet no matter where you are, it does not get louder or quieter. The sound is far too distant to be the rain.

You haven't slept in weeks. If you sleep, you won't be you anymore. You won't be able to talk to your friends anymore.
Just the idea of that happening shatters your heart into a million pieces, and makes your blood run cold.

But you haven't slept in so long. You're so tired, you can barely keep your eyes open. And yet, you snap yourself awake each time. It's worth it, right? It's for your friends.

The others don't experience this. It's unfair. They don't care about falling asleep, and they don't care about their friends, yet they get to stay up longer than you. It's unfair. You hate it. You hate them. They're always so negative.
but maybe youre just high maintenance

The static grows louder, and the windows shake.
Your chest hurts, and the pain spreads with each passing minute. You feel like you're going to pass out. You just need a little more time. Just a few more people, and you'll be ready.

Your hands are shaking. The house is cold, the furnace stopped working long ago. Or maybe you're just nervous? It's hard for you to tell now. It's almost time to go. Soon you will be with your friends

Yet, you're growing more and more tired. It's hard to think, and your movement is growing sluggish. Perhaps it's time to let the others have a turn?
No. What are you thinking? This is for your friends.

It feels like your movement is not your own. You do not belong here. This house is not yours. These friends are not yours. This body is not yours.

Your vision clouds over, and you fall into the void of unconsciousness.

stephanie lawson stevens themed drabbles??Where stories live. Discover now