Finish the sentence. Five minute exercise.
“Death would be too easy”
Death would be too easy. A long afternoon of impatient folks, credit card swipes, and price checks were behind me and awaiting my arrival at home was a giant bowl of popcorn and my favorite comedic reruns. It didn’t matter that it was Friday night or that I should’ve been headed to the sickest club on the strip to celebrate a birthday I’d promised to make an appearance at over a month ago.
Of course none of that mattered now. The world was a dark place, no longer full of the promise it once held. My island is overflowing with letters from collection agencies and the furniture in the studio apartment smells like its come in from off the street after a torrential downpour. Jogging pants are my new found friends, along with the ever famous Ben & Jerry. Three jobs barely make ends meet and my life seems to be in the eye of a never ending hurricane.