digitalchildren
Greenlighter
I am not a writer by any means, and this is for school, thought this would be the best place to get some feedback on what you professionals
think so far.
As you age your perspective on life alters, you begin to relise that chances are the world is not at your fingertips and probaly never was.
Your personal struggle is just that, a personal struggle and for many people there lives are spent walking in the footprints of the person infront
of them, never bold enough to break away and see what could really happen if they became more then just a blurred face in a busy crowd.
For what feels like eternity the numbing explosion of the withered clock on the wall erupts throughout the exhausted bleek house, to proud to call it
a home as i still grasp onto the glim hope that there is more to my story. The chime of midnight relieves me from the anxiety that seems to grow inside me
all day, and with the swift lock of my door my life of responsibility just outside fades to a glimmer of light bouncing of the setup placed so casually on
my bed. Time stands still as daddys medicine begins to bubble on the burnt spoon, my heart begins to dance as the anticipation inside swells until it can no
longer be contained, my hands begin to shake. The belt strangelling my bicept forces my tired retreating veins to unvail themselves, spectacular entangelled
lines of blue like an old beaten road map pleading to be driven into. The practically non-exsistent barrier offererd by my leathery skin sharply snaps way
and with a slow steady plunge, the release of dopamine bloods my brain offering my body the break it needs from the stress that torments me everyday.
A blanket of warmth spreads through me like a miracle cure to the sickness that is my addiction, Everything that matters fades away until all that is left
is a mind-numbing state of content,bliss and ecstasy pulsing to the beat of a relentless drum.
As you age your perspective on life alters, you begin to relise that chances are the world is not at your fingertips and probaly never was.
Your personal struggle is just that, a personal struggle and for many people there lives are spent walking in the footprints of the person infront
of them, never bold enough to break away and see what could really happen if they became more then just a blurred face in a busy crowd.
For what feels like eternity the numbing explosion of the withered clock on the wall erupts throughout the exhausted bleek house, to proud to call it
a home as i still grasp onto the glim hope that there is more to my story. The chime of midnight relieves me from the anxiety that seems to grow inside me
all day, and with the swift lock of my door my life of responsibility just outside fades to a glimmer of light bouncing of the setup placed so casually on
my bed. Time stands still as daddys medicine begins to bubble on the burnt spoon, my heart begins to dance as the anticipation inside swells until it can no
longer be contained, my hands begin to shake. The belt strangelling my bicept forces my tired retreating veins to unvail themselves, spectacular entangelled
lines of blue like an old beaten road map pleading to be driven into. The practically non-exsistent barrier offererd by my leathery skin sharply snaps way
and with a slow steady plunge, the release of dopamine bloods my brain offering my body the break it needs from the stress that torments me everyday.
A blanket of warmth spreads through me like a miracle cure to the sickness that is my addiction, Everything that matters fades away until all that is left
is a mind-numbing state of content,bliss and ecstasy pulsing to the beat of a relentless drum.
