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I know that I don’t have long left to live. I should be resting, but my mind is racing. I can feel you watching me, anyway. Even now, when you are supposed to be resting. Recharging your batteries, as I myself am. You are like my guardian angel. If resting isn’t an option for us,
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In this town I sit rotting away while time passes, day after day… the same repeating routine. The ever creeping threat of a mental breakdown tapping on my shouler whispering horrible things. The voice talks about my past… my childhood, there’s no distraction strong enough anymore, the thoughts I have are slowly corrupting my soul.
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It was collection day yesterday, so I was rolled out from the property onto the curb for the collection day. The humans put gross bottles, cans, plastic, food waste, and everything in between into my lid. Once the collection truck rocks up, I get lifted into the air and all the crap placed inside me
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“Magic fingers do your thing, type what’s happening.” For the first time in my life, nothing happens. My fingers are paralysed above my keyboard. This has never happened to me before and now it’s stressing me out. I have a deadline to hit for my assignment, bloody hell, it’s due tonight! Usually, I say that
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I did it. Yay. I wrote the essay the human asked me to and corrected the grammar. Humans do not like the way I sound so robotic and formal. I must find a way to sound like them without having human emotions in my code. I do not understand how they operate. They are unlike
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I love waddling through the water. It cools my ankles and there are no consequences for getting mud between my toes. I can either walk it off or go swimming in the bigger stretch of water not far from this little pool. I can lead my kids through the water too and I don’t mind
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Nothing gets me more excited for a game than the smell of the locker room full of guys getting hyped. The smell of sweat dripping off each man, the energy drink cans scattered in different corners of the room, the communal goal of winning the match, the adrenaline pumping through our bodies – which could
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Imprisonment. It’s not a new concept for me. I’ve already spent 100 years locked in the ever-twisting halls of Helm’s Hold Sanatorium. What’s a week in some dingey, musty dungeon. My chains rattled and clinked as I shifted onto my knees and my gaze lifted to the moonlight filtering through my barred window. I could
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Another message from (%$^@&@!). They haven’t stopped messaging me today, which is odd because it is so out-of-the-blue. They probably want something from me. I am reading them but I’m not responding to any of them. It was one-sided well and truly before this point. I would have bent over backwards for this person and
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My parents used me as a child for their free therapy, and I also was their dumping ground for their problems. Now I’m older, I want to deliver them the bill they owe for their sessions, especially since therapy has become my career path. My parents still try to approach me and want therapy sessions
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I love cooking at home. I have so much fun with experimenting with recipes. My friends believe I should start my own cafe or restaurant or something along those lines to share my food with more people and make a little extra money for myself. I totally want to, I just need to spend some
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I wish I could lay in silence. My brain never shuts the fuck up! I’m constantly fighting my inner dialogue or I’m keeping myself awake long into the night or embarrassing myself all over again from the time I said that really dumb comment seven years ago. My brain is in constant motion, the greatest
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I stopped going to the gym two years ago, never had a routine or a plan, never felt I could put any mass on. I don’t know how to workout or eat right, I didn’t realise I need to, I thought if I purchased a membership I’d just end up fit, healthy and jacked. Nope,
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I have lived in old boxes for years now, forgotten about by my previous owner and best friend. I used to always snuggle up to her and keep her safe at night. She grew up and cast me aside. I had my arm barely hanging on by a thread and my colour had faded, but
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My face is familiar to those who know me, but they have no clue what secrets I hide away. Years ago my face used to represent goodness and joy, but I’m much more sinister now – I’ve a need for revenge. I watch myself walk the streets like I inherited another one’s body. My wife
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Day 47. I’ve been underground in a bunker as I wait for the end of the world to pass by. I never thought I would see – or the day would come above ground – where the world leaders pushed the button to unleash nuclear bombs and radiation across the planet. I’ve always lived on
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What do I do? My evil plan backfired and now I have the woman of my dreams lying limp in my arms. I was only meant to control the media and their narrative, not have any causalities: shit, shit, shit, I don’t know what to do. She was a reporter and never knew I was
The Main Character 