Empty Sighs and Mary Jane
sitting alone in the basement;
The Xbox controller in my hand rocked in and out as I sat in my grandparents' basement, blowing smoke rings. The hood on my stripped hoodie was up, covering my ears and stopping before it was completely covering my head. It had started to slip off as I leaned my head back a little further, watching the rings float to the ceiling and disappear.
I ripped another page from one of my grandmother's Bible's as I pulled a plastic baggie from one of the pockets of my aqua blue hoodie; I liked to call this my weed smoking hoodie. My hands preformed a practiced and skilled task, rolling the five dollar weed into another blunt.
A blue lighter from Hustler had become my best friend next to Mary Jane; I called upon him as I let the newly formed blunt dangle between my lips. Once it was lit, I watched the words of a God who had turned his back on me long ago burn steadily - the smell of marijuana wafting heavily through out the modernized basement.
Refocusing on the large screen in front of me, I hit the play button on the Xbox controller. The moans of the two men fucking each other senseless reverberated through my skull, pounding harder and harder against the folds of my brain as I felt myself slip further into oblivion. As my hand slipped down my pants, I took another drag from the blunt, heaving an empty sigh.
To anyone else in the world, I probably looked like a pathetic piece of shit. I jerked off to gay porn in my grandparents' basement and made blunts from pages out of the Bible; what an outstanding excuse for a human. Why not, though? I had literally no one - I was alone and I doubted anything would be the same after what happened with her. If she didn't care, who would?
Heaving another empty sigh, I took another drag from what I was smoking and said "Oh, Marry Jane, you're the only gal who gave two shits about me."
I ripped another page from one of my grandmother's Bible's as I pulled a plastic baggie from one of the pockets of my aqua blue hoodie; I liked to call this my weed smoking hoodie. My hands preformed a practiced and skilled task, rolling the five dollar weed into another blunt.
A blue lighter from Hustler had become my best friend next to Mary Jane; I called upon him as I let the newly formed blunt dangle between my lips. Once it was lit, I watched the words of a God who had turned his back on me long ago burn steadily - the smell of marijuana wafting heavily through out the modernized basement.
Refocusing on the large screen in front of me, I hit the play button on the Xbox controller. The moans of the two men fucking each other senseless reverberated through my skull, pounding harder and harder against the folds of my brain as I felt myself slip further into oblivion. As my hand slipped down my pants, I took another drag from the blunt, heaving an empty sigh.
To anyone else in the world, I probably looked like a pathetic piece of shit. I jerked off to gay porn in my grandparents' basement and made blunts from pages out of the Bible; what an outstanding excuse for a human. Why not, though? I had literally no one - I was alone and I doubted anything would be the same after what happened with her. If she didn't care, who would?
Heaving another empty sigh, I took another drag from what I was smoking and said "Oh, Marry Jane, you're the only gal who gave two shits about me."
♠ ♠ ♠
346 nonsensical words.