MaxxHysteria

I struggle with an indecisive battle of whether I am a strong human ready to set a dimly lit pile of filth from the past in flames; Or if I truly am a creature of the junkyard, digging in the dirt and grime for items that have long since expired. What would it matter if I found that same spoiled milk which posed as sweet tea? How would it help me to search for that broken table you made him? When would I have a need for a single bead that has fallen stray from the bracelet? And yet I crave it. Strive to satiate it. Devour it. I know I shouldn’t, so I sit on the boundary. Hand outstretched but closed. Eyes scanning yet dozing. H

 It... It is no longer my favorite color. Relentlessly it's footsteps pound after me, surprisingly being hushed even at the velocity it has. I suppose it's not too much different from me. We're both too quiet. Maybe...it's just doing all this for a reason none of us can think of, other than being blood-thirsty, or savage, or this just being our fates for all eternity. Maybe it's just trying to be noticed. How could I not relate to that a little? What I don't understand...is why it must go about it like this. Harshly I slam the door behind me. As usual I speak quieter than I really should. It's a bit of a habit I can never seem t