#sheep posting

I was so confused at first because what the fuck is "and quarting"... Then i realized perhaps the "and" was a mistake

Anyway.

"Hey do you wanna go to this party tonight?"

" if your free ofc 😙"

sent 5 hours ago... No response. That's fine, he's probably busy or just forgot, it's fine. He dosent hate me he's just busy. He's gotta lot of work to do... God why did I ask him that? Of course he wouldn't respond, he works all day he's just gonna want to sleep not go to some fuckass party with you. He hates you.

I set my phone face down and opt to look around my room instead. It's dark and barley lit enough to see shapes in my room from the streetlight outside my open window. My walls have this faded yellow, appearing grey in the dark, Victorian style wallpaper. Like one of the previous tenants was a grandma and no one after her decided to take it down. Before more thoughts rise in my head I look up to the very top wall opposite my bed where there's a printing error in the pattern, like they moved the paper well it was being stamped. I try to focus on it harder wondering if the printer only made one stamp at a time given only one of the designs was smeared. But my anxiety is replaced with a much worse feeling in my chest. Desire grows as I move my head to my left to look at my box fan. It makes a consistent clicking sound as a broken piece of plastic hits the walls of its enclosure with each spin of the blades. The feeling moves to my head attempt to focus on the rattling. My hand grips the edge of my bed as I pull myself up and wip my legs off it. Immediately I lower my head to my hands, dizziness from my hangover punishing me for getting up to fast. Recovering, I dream of a soft felty texure, clinging to the roof of my mouth absorbing any moisture, the steady pull as I take a bite from the grey glob in my hands. Like a toddler that wasn't probably weened aching for its thumb I ache for something of a forbidden cotton candy.

Before I can correct my thoughts I find myself stumbling to the walk-in closet opposite my bedroom, not even bothering to turn on the light I slide open the door to the washer and dryer cramped inside.

I'm so fucking weird what the fuck is this. Can you even comprehend how much of a freak you are? can't you be normal. DO LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE

My hand fumbles the lid to the lint compartment, finding the ledge ment for my hand. Beratement never really got me to act in any meaningful way.

I'll never change will i? Too cowardice to kill myself to lazy to be better.

I pull the lint trap up and grab the purposely neglected thick layer of lint. Admiring its softness, tracing over the occasional nob from some pilled sweater.

I wanted to be so much yet I've become so little, over and over its always numbness, convenience, and pleasure over becoming anyone actually worth anything.

My toung slides under it, resistant to moisture at first, I bite but it dosent brake, instead I pull away from my hands, leaving a desperate clump in my mouth. I start to sob as I roll the lint in my mouth vainly trying to chew it, recognizing I bit to big I pathetically reached into my mouth to pull the piece in half before swallowing the felt.

I sob harder, I've never even grown up have i? No difference between the grown man now and the child crying in the laundry room, hoping no one would catch him, finding strange comfort that no one could see or hear him in the dark.

taking another bite of the now tear soaked lint, I slide down to the floor squishing y face against knees getting tears and slobber all over them

*hic* "so sinful... But so yummy" I say, blushingly

my tablet isn't allowed on the internet anymore so I had to retype all this shit on here you BETTER LAUGH also yes, I know. I use "as a" too much SUCK IT/silly

barley and toung... where those typos on purpose

I LOVE HOW THEY SHAKE LIKE WET DOGS :((