I take on my indolence with a renewed vigor. The television and couch comfort me in the confines of my parent’s house as my gut grows outward. I sit and flip through the commercials. Day by day, I get closer to that supposed heaven or hell and I do nothing. I do not pray. I do not act. I am a living breathing, eating, shitting, consuming, bleak nothing full of potential. A black hole in human form, sitting on a sofa, eating snacks.
(This was written while I was a teenager on what appears to have been a loathsome day.)