Suspenders, Stripes and Pain Killers, Oh My

My life is a neglected piece of paper. Crumpled and forgotten. Thrown and trashed. My life is about to die. My life is on the edge of collapsing with every little move I make. My life is worn out. Let’s face it, when your life has been used as much as mine, it takes an approach where it can no longer stand on its own.

The walls were a faded shade of grey. As you would walk in, its ancient paints were peeling in the corners. A muggy silhouette of cherry blossoms filled the walls with its old complexion while a clutter of portraits tried to cover it.

You can smell the day old oatmeal and the aroma of banana nut muffins in the air. You can hear the steps above your own room as the ones above you panicked.

I’ve been through hell. I’ve been in the dirt. It is as if I were a hand-me-down. No one wants me. I am the rubbish that seeks your eyes. I am that kid who’s invisible. I am that kid who gets thrown in the dust. I am the one who individuals feels sympathetic for, as if I needed it. I am the one who cares to much for those who don’t love me back.

I am Louis Tomlinson and I am about to die.