This short story is part 1 of the Middle of Nowhere series. This is my first attempt at writing and releasing a story. All feedback, good, bad, insulting, and fun is welcome.
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Raindrops tapped incessantly on my small skylight, fighting with the leaky faucet for my madness.
I’ve lived here for 18 years… well, I will have in a couple of hours’ time, and in these 18 years very little has changed. The leak in the faucet had improved for a while, then it had gotten worse again. My room had changed. Twice, my parents moved around some furniture, painted the walls white, and once they even added a skylight! That very skylight that was torturing me while I lay in my bed, dreaming for a beam of otherworldly light to shine through and take me.
I’m not depressed. This is something I tell everybody, all the time. I repeat it to myself, too. Very often. I’m not happy either, though. Not unhappy. Just… not happy. I have nothing to be happy for. People always seem to expect me to be sad, or have some secret gnawing at my deepest core. They are wrong.