Honestly, though; your friendships are imaginary, the only friends you keep are digital or over the phone lines, you life has no direction or meaning, save, maybe, in the service of those who have you by the balls because you thought they'd give you a little freedom.
No friends, no life, no hope.
You don't even have a sexual drive or the care/respect of those around you. You are the worthless extra cog in the working machine; you didn't even escape that through adolescence.
You do have something, however. What you do have is one massive headache and a washing machine full of your dirty underwear. There is also 1 1/2 percocets swimming through your stomach. You only wish absorption was faster, or that you had the foresight to crush and draw it into you sinuses. All the while, sitting, wondering, repeating what has become a mantra: Why didn't I take that leap
- written on a piece of toilet paper while seated on a washer between 12 and 1 a.m., brought to you by the wonders of machines. first entry in esoteric_space