the walls are crawling. everywhere i look another species of bug occupies space that was once free of all such pests. my home is becoming a dump...everywhere i look some other form of junk is accumulating. my fingers itch to pick it up and throw it all away, to be free of such bondage as the garbage that is slowly suffocating me. i have the urge. this house should burn to the ground. all the possessions along with it. give me a clean palate to work with. i would start from scratch and create two separate quarters. one for the garbage man, the keeper of clutter. the king of unnecessary purchases. the master of destroying lives. the other, for the girl who didn't know what to do. who was torn between killing the king and running away. it was all so complicated that at times it just overwhelmed her. there was really nothing more she could do. she just had to wait. patience is a virtue. perhaps the strong-willed will survive. that's what she was hoping at least.
i have slowly scratched a little hole in my arm. it used to be a nervous habit i had, except it was just my fingers. now it has slowly climbed up my forearm and onto my bicep, becoming a little dot of blood that i can't help but pick. it's strange how something so little can hurt so much. i'm a big wuss.
i have become so far removed from this place that i look at it like a game. the winner recieves a one-way ticket way the fuck out of here. collect $200 as you pass go.... chance card...you resist the urge to scream until you explode....pass go.
maybe some day i'll land on park place and be able to bankrupt all the other players. well, player.