The legs were weak so he layed on the ground.
He stared at the ceiling for a couple of weeks. The water had destroyed it and left black spots all over it.
The days were no longer days, it was just like looking the road from the inside of a car in movement.
His life had been just another canceled Late Night Show where He had tried really hard to be funny.
"There is nothing like love. There is just a deep need to have a good **** by the end of the day."
He really belived in this kind of stuff and in everything Nietzsche wrote about time and space.
He was the kind of guy who enjoyed his whiskey right out from the bottle, no ice or ******* cups.
Why complicate? We're talking about ***** for god sake.
It has never been about the trip. It was always about the destination.
It has never been about having a good time. It was always about forgetting time and forgiving life.
And We're still talking about *****.
And We're still talking about life.
Just that He doesnt care anymore.
You see It's hard to care about life when you live your life with a gun up on your *** and a bird whispering you to not **** yourself.
It's hard to live when You dont allow yourself to cry.
Somehow It's much easier to die looking at the ceiling.