wolfpack1029

He lies down in bed. "Today was a good day." He thought to himself. "I took my brother out for birthday lunch, spent some time with my girlie, and I played some games. I pleased everyone… even myself, which is a rarity." He took a look at his phone quickly for the time. "Ok, it is 10:45 at night and I have work at 6 in the morning. This should be enough sleep to make sure I keep my promise to my girlie." He thought. He put the phone down, turned around and pulled the blanket over himself. He shut his eyes and hoped for good dreams. His room seemed eerily dark. So dark he could not tell a difference if he opened his eyes. It didn't seem

He does not know what he did wrong. He looks around the room and takes a long breath and holds it in, and tries to see if he can knock himself unconscious. He failed, so he continues to survey the room finding nothing but memories of the good times. The times where, it seemed, the sun always set and made the world around them beautiful and her too. His eye fall upon a stray comic book entitled "Daffodil" He had, on more than one occasion, compared her to a flower in his head. So gorgeous and delicate she was, to him and many others. His phone vibrates; he debates on looking to see the text. He slowly pick up his phone and looks at the text. "

I walk into my "room "it is littered with peace signs and family photos that belong to the person who once called this room… home. While walking in a toss my comics onto the bed and take a look at the cover of one comic that had fallen astray. A picture of a beautiful woman, she taken in a little of an abstract tone that made her look even more beautiful. She pops into my head, the girl I call my own. She had only left an hour ago, and it was only last night her and I had shared the bed.  It had already felt like a year had passed since I last laid my eyes on her beautiful face. I cannot stop thinking about her. Her beauty, elegance, the

I walk into this house. It is not the one i once knew. It is not even in a location I am remotely familiar with. I walk right by its inhabitants and grab my coat off of the bed to search.... search for my happiness. Happiness in a tin. When I find it, I put it up against my forehead. A single tear passes down my face as I say "why?" The house inhabitants come up to comfort me and I shake them off. They ask for my tin. My one bit of happiness left. "Why should I give them my tin?" I thought. They did not speak. A little girl walks up to me. She grabs my arm, also crying. I turn to the inhabitants, now fully crying, and say "NO! This is the onl