Going over the thought of whether his warm, comfortable bed would be where he spends the rest of the day (which he was all in support for) or to force himself to get up to the bleak prospect of facing the world for another day. Not being given a choice, as always, he painfully tore away from the almost unbreakable bond with his bed and dragged himself to the washroom.
After the most slothful wash-up, he placed himself before the dining table, allowing the ever-present gravity in life to pull his head towards the ground. Thud. His head lay on the table, motionless. He was almost back to dreaming of dreaming of dreaming, (you get the picture) until his mother nudged him back to reality. Bleak reality. Thoughts flooded his mind. Life just wasn't what it used to be like. There was nothing to look forward to anymore. He gave a huge sigh and thought out loud.
"If only I didn't get this cursed haircut."
This story is 90% fiction. Yes, I got my haircut. But obviously, I'm not the type to go suicidal over a haircut. Whether it was the shampoo or my diet, I have enough hair to look reasonable sane. (and I've demolished my writer's block AND got an update- Cheers!)
Whether it's Billy, Carrots, or Homer, there is an emo kid in all of us, wanting to break free. Over Chinese tea, pimples, or lack of hair, the emo inside of us is worth unveiling. Who is the real you? (this sounds like a beer ad tagline)
WARNING: This post has no intention of converting readers to become goths or suicidal teenagers. It was simply part of the process of overcoming my writer's block, so I think it'd be best that the closest you get to emo is just whining over a girl or getting a.... emo hairstyle?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment