My Night
The night didn't end for me, it never fucking ended. Now I want the night to end. I hate the fucking night. It's full of ghosts and dreams, whispers and taunts, and when I wake up it's to an empty bed and feelings so acute that being awake is like a permanent scream. My ass-fucked by life, sadly, confusedly sifting through memories of times when I didn't give a shit, because now I did, and it hurt pretty bad. I realized the other day that I spent thirty years waiting for life to start, without ever fucking realizing it had. That kind of sucked. Rest of my life begins tomorrow.