I'm Andrew.
I'm 18.
I write, and smoke more cigarettes than I'd care to admit.
I live in a fantasy world in my head.
And I don't give an actual fuck.
I love mathematics and all that it has in store.
I sit in the dark of night,
the only light coming from the
embers attached to this cigarette.
Leaves are rustling in the breeze,
I’m so zoned tonight,
all of my thoughts are claiming
their particular places, and
my body twitches, but
only to show me that I am
failing to withstand the night.
To show me that sleep will
soon consume me.
