{ONGOING}
Is it still the same? I don't know. I've put in a lot of efforts to make sure it isn't, but never succeeded. Hell, even Justin and his songs couldn't work their magic. But...
Why is he here?
Why now?
But...how? Just-how?
You know how when...
Yes, actually, for your kind concern. Minus the onesie, fvck your intelligence.
When I look around me, all I see are closed windows, two closed doors, a huge flat screen TV even bigger than the one we had in our family room, an open door, a comfortable bed, a bedside table, a....
Okay, hold it!
An open door!
No matter how appealing the bed is in its water mattress-or whatever it is that they use these days-I want to go out through the open door, because my remaining common sense tells me that I am most likely held captive by whoever that bastard was that kidnapped me, and he did not notice the open door for some reason, that I don't know but am thankful for.
I try to get up but that's when I realize my hands...
They'refvckingcuffed?!
How dare that moron of a kidnapper handcuff the hands that are the only things which made me proud from time to time!
I feel anger erupting in me after many many years and I just want to let it out. I've been disappointed before, and pissed off too. But I never let it show, because by the time I decided to react, it'd already be a whatever sort of thing. Basically, I'd grown numb to any kind of feeling except for... Never mind.
