Glaring through the parted curtains. I hate mornings but I always feel beautiful. I might like tomorrow morning but let me sleep for now. When the clock strikes seven after twenty-four hours I will be alive again.
Stepping down each step takes me an inch closer to my death. The death of my dreams, my imaginarium. I don’t wanna die like this. I want to leave this universe in the most awesome and unique way. I’ll think about it before I die.