I remember reorganising my bedroom every Tuesday. It's not that I ever wanted to. It was just this perpetual force that called out for me to do it. And every Tuesday the pressure of that force just got too much.
I suppose in the end it was just some subliminal desire or change that constantly drove me. A desire for change that consisitently pushes me to some sickening form of madness.
Pushed to the point where the world is barren and grey, because nothing ever happens. Nothing happens at all. The world is both literally and metaphorically a wheel that turns for time indefinite, and there's something both depressing and comforting about that. That everything is always the same. For me it's more of the latter.
Because what is life without change? What is life without the freedom?
YOU ARE READING
Nomad
Teen Fiction"I'm drowning in a sea of possibilty and only you can drag me out." Xavier Collins probably isn't your average teenager. He probably never will be. But he's got money, a car, and a huge bucket list. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~...
