Destroyed by Your Lack of Sympathy
The Girl Known as Shadow, She's in Deep Shit...
*Shadow's POV*
I shivered on my cold bed.
I had only one blanket. , one mattress cover and nothing else.
I looked around my blank, dark, white room.
The walls had since been stained yellow from smoke.
It smelled like perfume, from some friends of mines habit of smoking weed in my room. We never got caught, but came close to it a few times, so they gave up on my apartment and went to someone else’s. It was sad how much money I spent on that shit, and shows. Going to them trying to find someone hot, or willing to fuck me. I didn’t care, I was bi, so I got around at those shows, a good amount of girls got a piece of me and fewer guys did. It was still fun as all hell.
Unless the girls had sharp nails, then it was a bit painful.
You can probably tell my life is less than satisfactory.
I never had many friends, just my stoner and fuck buddies.
I was always the freak, ever since the first grade.
I wore black 24/7 and lots of eyeliner.
I had dark brown hair and brown eyes, cheap fake leather boots and anything I could from the closest thrift store. The sad thing is, I only owned like 3 things not from the thrift, even though I had a good job. I spent my money everywhere I didn’t need to, and was suffering because of it. A cold apartment, not a lot of food, and barely any furniture. It almost made me want to cry, but the weed suppressed my feelings. I just passed out on my bed in a sleep like state of healing.
I shivered on my cold bed.
I had only one blanket. , one mattress cover and nothing else.
I looked around my blank, dark, white room.
The walls had since been stained yellow from smoke.
It smelled like perfume, from some friends of mines habit of smoking weed in my room. We never got caught, but came close to it a few times, so they gave up on my apartment and went to someone else’s. It was sad how much money I spent on that shit, and shows. Going to them trying to find someone hot, or willing to fuck me. I didn’t care, I was bi, so I got around at those shows, a good amount of girls got a piece of me and fewer guys did. It was still fun as all hell.
Unless the girls had sharp nails, then it was a bit painful.
You can probably tell my life is less than satisfactory.
I never had many friends, just my stoner and fuck buddies.
I was always the freak, ever since the first grade.
I wore black 24/7 and lots of eyeliner.
I had dark brown hair and brown eyes, cheap fake leather boots and anything I could from the closest thrift store. The sad thing is, I only owned like 3 things not from the thrift, even though I had a good job. I spent my money everywhere I didn’t need to, and was suffering because of it. A cold apartment, not a lot of food, and barely any furniture. It almost made me want to cry, but the weed suppressed my feelings. I just passed out on my bed in a sleep like state of healing.