"It's now five thirty in the morning and traffic is reasonable along the I-185 cor--" my alarm clock blared before I roughly hit the top of it, silencing the menace.

I pulled the comforter off of my head and sat up unsteadily. The sheet is a liar, for it offered me no comfort.

Dreams to stave an empty soul plagued my night yet again. A full nights sleep thats still woken from as if it never was.

Technicolor dreams to kill the monotone life. I then looked at the clock to see the lifeless red letters forming five thirty five blurrily.

I then pushed off of the bed, wobbling a bit before staggering to the shower and turning it on.

Soap and shampoo, good for the body, but some things just don't clean out so easily.

I showered quickly and dried myself off before walking over to the mirror. Steam clouded the broken surface so I wiped it off with my towel.

My face was refracted into a thousand small piece by the broken glass. Broken by my fist after..just after.

My reflection stared back at me. Strands of red framing a pale face with eyes of a vivid green standing out like a male art major making out with an equally male quarter back.

I walked into my bedroom, opening my closet to find my clothes as monotonous as every other aspect of my life.

My other clothes were in a black garbage bag on the floor of my closet. But I haven't touched them since...just since.

I dressed hurriedly and walked out of my apartment, locking the door behind me; the bus stop awaits.

Too many people in this city. I loved it once, meeting new people and just watching them. A living soap opera. But now their lives hold no joy for me.

I walked down the sidewalk to the bus stop quickly, sometimes being run into by people who never saw me, and likely never realized they hit me.

Onto the bus, a metal lionness carrying her children in her steel jaw, leading them to the rest of their lives.

Sitting by an old man who doesn't matter to anyone anymore. A shrunken shell of a human being, lines of sadness and worry etched onto his face like a slate being chiseled. He looked at me and smiled amicably, but I have no smile for him. Nothing against him, but I have no smiles for anyone now, lest a stranger.

Off the bus and into the office building. The slutty coworker lounging about the cubicle belonging to the office stud, her skirt hitched up and her cleavage hanging out like something there is no word for. A whore does it for money, but she'll do it for nothing.

Into the square box you go, type away your life. Invoices, inboxes, spreadsheets, appointments, and many other things to do.

--

A/n: I like the idea of this one. Umm...I wrote out character profiles, and I think I'll post one per chapter, so here's this one:

Kasen Mills:

Age-21

Height-5'5

Weight-108lbs.

Occupation-Office Worker

Hair Color: Red

Eye Color: Green

Key Word: Subdued

Personality: Hypersensitive, dependant, avoidant.

That's all for now then. And yeah, I know that profile just got formatted in a very strange way. Sorry.