Zannen

Somewhere along the lines of that day, I had managed to circle back to my apartment, grab my gear, and jet. It was all in one big haze. You know when you remove yourself from a situation completely? Like an out of body experience, sort of. Now I stood at the side of the highway, with a wad of 20's in my back pocket. Sure, it was supposed to be for my rent, but it didn't look like I was going back there anytime soon. I had pitched my thumb towards the sky a while back – now all I had to do was

The next day, when I awoke, I noticed there were plenty of things different about my apartment. Well, first off, I could feel a mattress underneath me. I didn't remember having one of those. Opening my eyes, I came to see a ceiling that wasn't stained with water marks. What the hell? I turned my head to the side, to try to figure out what had changed within my room. Within my present mode of half-awake-ness, I had just figured some Extreme Makeover; Home Edition crew had come through my house

"You really do have no self-preservation, do you?" He mumbled some, still staying as close to me as before. I didn't respond. First off, it wasn't even a question. Secondly, it was so true. I didn't care, at all. In fact, Mr. Veil, I was just hoping moments ago that you'd fucking slaughter me, you know, if that isn't too much to ask for. My main question was why he was touching me so much. I mean, I was a repulsive, low-life, greased up creature, who was just about to bathe in the fucking riv

Least to say, I was fucking terrified. I jumped about five feet in the air, and backed away from him the fastest I could. I didn't care how much it hurt, I needed to get away from that. That... knife. I shuttered slightly. I guess I must have looking scared shitless, because he kept looking back and forth from me to the knife. I started rummaging around in my pocket for the handy notepad I kept in there, somewhere in the mass of cargo pants. Pulling it out, managed to shakily right him a mess

Yeah, you'd think if you fell unconcious in the middle of the street, you'd end up in a hospital, or at least someone's bed, right? Leave it to me to wake up in a fucking alley-way. I shifted some in my sleep, oh-so pleasantly awaking myself to the pains of life. Quite literally. The first thing to alerted me of my situation was when I could hear the somewhat distant sounds of traffic. And not the kind of sound you hear through a window. I let my eyes open groggily, before the pain slammed in

I strolled into my next class late again, with a repeat of what happened the previous time. Cue awkwardness. As I sat through this lovely seminar of advanced mathematics (AKA Bullshit I will never need to know), I couldn't stop my mind from drifting back to that boy. The unnaturally redheaded one. What was he getting at? How the hell was hitting on me, of all people, going to benefit him in any way whatsoever? I sighed inaudibly. It wasn't. Even briefly associating with the 'poor-as-bloody

Beep. Beep. Beep. BEEP. Smash. Rolling over grogilly, I checked to see if I had dismembered yet another alarm clock. Luckily, the LED lights displaying how fucking early it was in the morning, was yet another fortunate beginning to the day. I had wasted WAY too much money on alarm clocks. And God knows I needed them. If I didn't arrive fifteen minutes early to my shift, I'd... Cue pacing. Sadly, pacing in this scenario was more 'tumbling out of my sleeping blanket and cra

Pacing. Somehow I always find myself pacing. Don't ask me why, I barely understand it myself. My mother said that it helps me think, but it doesn't really. I personally think it's just something to keep me from thinking. And believe me, I hate thinking. To anyone in the hall, I must've looked like a crazed lunatic, pacing with a box full of my prized possessions in front of a run down apartment door. My only box of possessions in general. I liked to keep things simple. Sighing ina

"You ever meet those people, that seem to look not at you, as a person, but into your soul? Everything that you are, you've become, and you'll be. You don't know how to fix it, and they can see right through your fucking facade. I was terrified." Seemingly apathetic, Caden struggles to deal with daily issues - or really, just to care at all. Though with the appearance of a red haired delinquent, things might start to change.

Most embarrassing moment of my life? Probably when I told my whole fifth grade class I still believed in Santa Claus. My teacher laughed at me. I WAS INNOCENT, SO WHAT? Anyway. I figured we could all gain some giggles from other people's embarrassments.

UM. Well. I'm Zannen, Taylor, AbeoEternity, whatever. I'm referred to as a lot of different things on different sites. I joined this site in hopes of publishing my writing here, as well as fictionpress.com, after the reviews from there encouraged me. Anyway. I pretty much fell in love with this site at first... url, yeah. There we go. BUT STILL. So good. ... As you all can probably tell, I suck with introductions. So I'll leave you all with that.

Somehow, in some odd way, singing while typing seems to help me write. I mean, that doesn't even make any semblance of sense, now does it? If anything, it should be prohibiting me from typing a coherent, least to say, grammatically correct sentence. Somehow, I manage. It makes it easier to think about what I'm doing while singing about something else.

http://starfightercomic.com/ It's brilliant.

Oreos are gross. D: