anniemal

The Story of How I Died

I’m sitting on train and all I can think about is how content my belly feels after stuffing down a grilled chicken with chili sauce burrito down my throat. Did I mention it was super sized? My eyes are feeling heavy as the train rocks and cradles the passengers inside. You can hear the slow rumble and murmurs of the passengers and the train tracks. It’s Tuesday and my God it is cloudy with a hint of rain; the perfect nap-time-kind-of-weather. All I can think about is laying on my soft bed with my head nestled comfortably on my floral printed and Hello Kitty pillows. I can fall asleep right now. It’s a heavenly thought, but as I look down I see my bag packed with articles and textbook - it reminded me of the nightmarish horror I’d have to endure for the next few days. It’s finals week, the only week that college students drink overly-excessive amounts of coffee for the lack of sleep because of exams piled up after another exam and to top it off, a 20 page paper. 

If you listen closely, you can hear the screeches and whimpers of dead students howling in the wind. 

My foot steps are feeling heavy, I can barely lift it. As I trudge toward the door of my apartment I stopped. Home use to be about eating more delicious food and curling up in the corner of my bed dozing off to the smell of, well, more food. In the next few days, my apartment will be filled with scatter articles all across the floor with textbooks piling all around my desk. 

The door suddenly opened and my landlord’s head popped out, “What the heck are you doing standing there? People are going to think you’re a freak. Come in!”

…

Please imagine a stream of tears flowing down my face.