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When I was seven, I tried to commit suicide. Everything was dark, except the floor, a long way beneath me. My feet dragged me towards the edge of the building. All that I knew was that it was windy, and getting windier by the second, my neck was quite itchy, and I was about to die. "Ring a ring a rosies, A pocket full of posies, "A-tishoo! A-tishoo!" We all fall down!" I was never really a child. I had a childhood, and I looked like a child, but inside I was more like a machine. I did what I was told to do: I functioned. "Survival is an instinct built into every animal on this planet: See prey, chase prey, pounce. Dinner. A cheetah woul

        Thunder rolled across the black-gray sky, warning the little people below of what would come. (F/n) sighed as he walked, ignoring the raindrops sprinkling around him. What fitting weather, he thought. Lightening flashed, causing him to jump as the thunder followed the streak in the sky. He cursed himself, hating how he was easily scared. It didn't help that it was dark out with the street lights on in the park playground he walked around.        When (f/n) felt sad, bad, or felt like getting out, he would always come to this park playground. He grew up in this town so memories stuck to the place. He also enjoyed watching kids play.

Why can't anything interesting happen to me? This one sentence was a common thought in your head. Every day you wondered why your life was so boring. Why you couldn't live in a world where something was always happening. You didn't even care what. You just wanted something to happen. You headed home from your part-time job with these thoughts running through your mind. You barely paid attention to them anymore because, honestly, what was the use. Things wouldn't ever change. They hadn't in the entire time you'd been alive. Same dull routines, only slightly changed by where and how old you were. Sighing lightly at this old revelation, you e

Bloodstream - Stateless Wake up and look me in the eyes again I need to feel your hand upon my face It was a rare occasion when Hannibal couldn't sleep. He wasn't the kind of person to let daily life interfere with his dreams. But he had been awake all night, unable to fall asleep. He felt guilty. He was sure she was gone by now. She was probably at home, sleeping soundly. He sighed and got out of bed. It was no use lingering on the past, so he thought. He changed into a dress shirt and a vest, slightly more underdressed than usual. He was not in the mood to dress fully; he didn't have any plans anyway. He had decided that he would stay ho