I saw the sun die.

zombified. that's how each day feels. dragging feet along halls, pretending to give a fuck. his brain isn't quite connected with the rest of his body, not following the same movements at all. his head says to stop but his body, his heart keeps on going. there is no time for breaks. he screams inside, waking up the pieces he never knew existed until that very moment. those pieces shatter, rain, cry in the shock.  he doesn't like the changes, can't handle the way they rearrange his life. so much changing at once, he needs a constant. and then he loses his time to relax Friday nights. although he could use the money to afford the chaos that is life. the chaos of grad year. the chaos of post-secondary ahead. the chaos of moving out. it scares him how the world revolves around money so much.  the uniform, everything that is what he is not, has arrived. he will have to stick on that golf shirt every week, twice a week for at least the next few months. he will have to be just one out of a dozen or two. matching, soul-selling, dying. this is the work force. but he gets free shit, so who's complaining? if it weren't for the awkward hours and the uniforms it would actually be quite enjoyable. he's going to be so dead by the time the real weekend rolls around. <3 <3