Description
Until you spend decades in isolation - with no family, no friends, no kids, no parents, no relatives, and no love - you'll just never understand how crushing every holiday is. That's something to dread. I work long hours as a substitute, a way to mitigate the loneliness - but, whenever I stop working - I'm back to the same place again - alone in a city with millions of people. There's no hope for someone like me.
It's time to start using heroin. I'm hearing that song Low by Cracker:
"A million poppies' gonna make me sleep
just one rose, it knows your name
My fruit is rusting on the vine
My fruit is calling from the trees"
Discussion
By posting you agree to the Terms and Privacy Policy.