A pungent stench lifts from your shirt. It’s all you have left – or so to speak.
As a child, you had dreams and they consumed your flesh and bones. Nights filled with thoughts, ideas and the light beamed from the moon brighter than any other time. You drew, you wrote, you played and you loved. Then the world catapulted itself into you with a force to be reckoned.
Cartoons became dull; songs became unimportant; movies you loved as a child became full of holes. You complained about what did not work, about what could have worked, about what should have worked – all the while, the dreams dwindled and became passing memories.
In the wake of your reality waking up, a part of you went to sleep permanently. A hunger awoke in its place. You became a cannibal. Devour those around you to build yourself up. Only thing you never considered:
Cannibals eventually eat themselves.