The bus took a right corner closer to Joey's worn-down apartment building. Black, ominous crows perched on the rooftop. A ghastly image that towers above the daily pedestrians on the way to work but this is home to Joey, whether he liked it or not..
Jerking and heaving, the bus cranked to a stop. Joey awoke from his musings and hurriedly got off. The Jar, as he referred to it, was a small rented room on the 13th floor with an air vent and no windows. This would be THE LIFE of a goth kid but Joey didn't like the idea of sporting a mohawk, piercings, or even tattoos. In fact, Joey is nothing but ordinary. A blank canvas.
He wonders if anyone will get to read all this...after all, this is his memo directed at life and it would represent him after Death. Tears flood from his eyes, he just couldn't hold back. The pain, the suffering, the loneliness... the past has brought him to his knees. Now he sits on those cold dusty steps, unable to find that foothold within himself.
**Are you enjoying reading this? I know some of you may not but the reality of life is harsh. A poor unfortunate soul like Joey...do help him, that's all he ever asked for.
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