i didn't choose the thug life|
and the thug life didn't choose me either
Commission Info: fav.me/d5bw30b
1 - Awake Whenever I wake up screaming, I’m almost disappointed that I’m not being shot at.1 - Awake by Kateboat
Lying in a bed that’s too big, sweat dripping down my forehead and back, all alone - at least in Afghanistan, there were people around. Murder-driven people, mind you, but still people. Now it’s just the memories, and it sucks.
It’s still dark out, but multicolored light streams in under the curtain from the streetlights and neon signs of the San Francisco streets.
I sigh and prop my pillows up in a pile. Sleep won’t come anymore, so I might as well wait for morning, when I know I’ll have company. Breathing deeply to calm my nerves down, I watch the old-fashioned alarm clock’s tiniest hand tick infinitely in circles.
Someone knocks on the door. I jump. It’s 3am, so there’s really no one who could possibly be seeking me out at this hour.