Frustration strains on his face and all flesh combined. He felt like losing everything he wanted so maybe he could gain back some glimmer of hope. Maybe someone would give him a break. Hopefully it would all fall in place. Maybe he could end up finding a home in his heart.
"It fell, and it left me to be torn apart."
"It will get better."
"It's been three fucking years, when will it get better?"
"You have to be patient."
"As easy as you said it, it doesn't seem that way."
"Everyone reaches a hard spot. You've come to yours, but your moving slowly."
"Maybe its quick sand. That's why its moving so slowly."
"Maybe you should be positive."
"Maybe I should kill myself."
"Seriously, give it time and it will come through. It always does, but your so fucking negative I don't know what to tell you anymore. To where you'll have some fucking hope for yourself. What do you need me to say? So, you will hopefully shut the fuck up and do something about it."
"Kill me."
"That's not a solution."
"It isn't? Tell that to the people that are dead right now, because of your fucking hard spots."
She looked away not hoping for any kind of attention from the fool. He glanced towards the road thinking if he ran out in front of a car would he live? Since his luck right now is so slim, why would he die? It's what he wanted why would it come true?
"Please, just let this one day be different from all the rest. Where you finally stand up and walk away from all this shit you're in."
"Maybe its the only thing I've really got right now. Maybe I actually enjoy its fucking company. Maybe I like to swim in sorrow everyday that's why its stuck. Did you ever think of that?"
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