Papaverium
Bluelighter
My eyes open, the piercing screech of the daily alarm has once again summoned me to my fate. Incoherently tapping my phone, I hope to shut it off before it wakes my room mates. It's 7:00am, still dark outside, as I ponder the meaning of existence to be simply meaningless. A strong yawn comes over me, as I stretch my sore muscles... "Today is the day", I tell myself with slight confidence.
Hurling myself out of bed, I've come to realize that 20 minutes has passed since I've last looked at the clock. "Goddamn it!", I curse, as I rush to throw on some clothes and try desperately not to miss my bus to work again. It was a close call, but I made it.... I made it onto the path to a monotonous 8 hours of wishing I could be dead, or at least numb... Numb it away.
Work was tiring, though I don't do much physical labour, it was just so tiring from being depressed and unable to harvest the energy to enjoy life without the use of opiates. "Why am I even alive?", I question, as I leave work to catch my bus, and try my damndest to not call my dealer before I get home.... Even though, I know once I get home, I'm doomed and destined to call him. The hatred that drives me to use is so strong, I submit to it's power.... every....fucking....time.
As I lay in my bed, setting my alarm for tomorrow, wishing that it would all be over..... that I would not wake up this time, I think to myself, "there has to be life beyond these emotionless walls. Tomorrow will be the day!" and with slight confidence, I close my eyes.
My eyes open, the enraging tones of the daily alarm summon me to the same thing.... day after day.
Hurling myself out of bed, I've come to realize that 20 minutes has passed since I've last looked at the clock. "Goddamn it!", I curse, as I rush to throw on some clothes and try desperately not to miss my bus to work again. It was a close call, but I made it.... I made it onto the path to a monotonous 8 hours of wishing I could be dead, or at least numb... Numb it away.
Work was tiring, though I don't do much physical labour, it was just so tiring from being depressed and unable to harvest the energy to enjoy life without the use of opiates. "Why am I even alive?", I question, as I leave work to catch my bus, and try my damndest to not call my dealer before I get home.... Even though, I know once I get home, I'm doomed and destined to call him. The hatred that drives me to use is so strong, I submit to it's power.... every....fucking....time.
As I lay in my bed, setting my alarm for tomorrow, wishing that it would all be over..... that I would not wake up this time, I think to myself, "there has to be life beyond these emotionless walls. Tomorrow will be the day!" and with slight confidence, I close my eyes.
My eyes open, the enraging tones of the daily alarm summon me to the same thing.... day after day.
thanks for sharing!!