Ode to TFA:

She stared at the wall. Listless. Tired. Bullshit. That's all that played in her head. Listless. Tired. Bullshit. Her body reacted with her, stomach sick, throat dry, but vomity. It all matched with the outside. Dark, sick, and vomity. She closed her eyes feeling the weight of her head sink into her eyes. Her ears popping from the load. Listless. Tired. Bullshit. Breathing in through her nose. Listless. Tired. Bullshit. Her chest hurt from the weight. How long had it been since she'd had a real conversation. How long had it been since she said something was fun. Her neck rolled with her head. It smelt like shit from where her dog had gone earlier. No amount cleaning every really covered that smell. Not at first. The shit seeped in nauseously through her nose. Fuck, she hated that dog. Fuck, she hated everything though. How long had she been here. Moving to save the world. Listless. Tired. Bullshit. What world. Everyone hated her. No one gave a damn what she did as long as she was miserable and overworked doing it. Listless. Tired. Bullshit. Her eyes hurt when she tired to sleep, both of them sinking into her nose. How long had she been here. The question wasn't answered well. She still had more than a year left to save the world. What world. Her heart was barely pegged to her chest anymore, just a hollow flap of skinny begrudgingly letting air through. What function did it do. Listless. Tired. Bullshit. Air hummed in in out, not really caring to come through. Spots in her head crossed with veins that silently stabbed her eyes. Sleep. That's what was needed. Sleep and "rest". Tired. Bullshit. The last time had been Thanksgiving. When she'd said something was fun. That'd been the last time she had sex. That'd been the last time she felt loved. Bullshit. Here she was again, though, two thousand miles away, her eyes stabbing against her face. What world could she save. None. They hated her anyways.