I wrote this as a joke response to someone on another site where you can go to a person's page and earn them points. So, this person said that she would come back later to get me more points.
I'll be waiting here in this dimly lit, empty room on this rocking chair wearing a dingy white button up shirt covered by a faded gray wool jacket, thin khaki pants covered by a green and blue checkered blanket that doesn't hide the knobbiness of my knees, and mismatched holey dress socks with red stains. My hair is foul dirty and matted to my scalp like that of a mangy stray. My teeth are rotting and jiggling in my rancid mouth. My eyes, bulging from my deathly thin corpse, are fixed on a door covered with webs and blocked at the bottom by an inch of dust and dead crawling and flying things. The rats have stopped coming to nibble at my flesh when the air became too thick with the decay of their feces and their ancestors who died before them while trying to navigate my hell. I survive off of a box of moth balls and your promise that you will return to me like sunshine in the morning. How long has it been now? Twenty-two hours? Seventy years? I struggle to live on. To draw breath, takes all my might. My heart, I force to beat. My vision, reduced to forms, reduced to shadows, light versus dark. My hearing, reduced to muffles, reduced to static. Maybe you've already gone before me. *gasp* *seize* No! I'll keep waiting. I'll believe in your promise. I'll keep waiting...
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You really ought to be a writer dude!
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