23 · Miles · Away

I know of a boy who resembles a shell. He smiles when all is lost and laughs when he becomes uncomfortable with the situation at hand. Nobody realizes the hollow him, only the imitation of emotions. He mimicks what you desire; sex, arrogance, laughter, goals, drive. The way he moves makes you believe he reassures himself with every step; "Special, hot shit, look at me, stomp stomp stomp." He believes in cures for the sick but gives little sympathy. Empathy is quite polar to his emotions. He is stacked with emotions but never lets them leak through his pores like most. A piss poor childhood and an even more lackluster rest of life drives him to believe in suicide. But nobody knows himself, himself included. Writings and paintings and photographs make you believe in depression and lost causes. All of his prose paints portraits of the pitiful plite in life.

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