They were doing everything I’ve ever wanted.
On my computer screen, there are two humans engaging in sexual intercourse. I’m 30. Yet I’ve never experienced that.
That’s why I decided to spend my last hour mastrubating.
Yes, it sounds like a joke, but what else do I have going for me? Here I am, a degenerate, a shut-in, living in my parent’s house at the age of 30 with no job and no one that loves me. All of my friends have become successful and left town. I’m the only one left.
It’s funny honestly. How none of this is my fault. I never should’ve been in this situation, yet it’s that bastard's fault that I completely flunked in high school. It took me a year to graduate, only for no college’s to accept me. In the end, it’s my “friend’s” fault that I’m here now.
I let out a sigh. It’s all their fault…
I’m different! I’m smart! I...I hate all of this!
I wish I were dead! I fall backwards on the bed, and begin scratching my dick. My eyes began watering. I wish I were dead…
“Yo?” I hear a knock on the door. It’s Mom’s voice that’s calling out my name. I quickly jump up and shut my laptop closed, and pull up my pants.
“...Do you want to eat dinner with your father and me?” She asks. My eyes widen as I look over at the door.
Should I eat with them? I mean, I only have one hour left, right?
I slowly get up and walk towards the door.
I should open the door, right?
I raise my hand and reach for the door handle. And I stop. I’m shaking. I reach back, and look at the palms of my hands. They’re sweating heavily. I continue to stare.
“Yosuke? Are you coming?” She asks. I take a deep breath.
“No thanks, mom. I want to be alone.”
I want to be alone.
I want to be alone.
“But, Yosuke, we want to eat with yo-!”
“Can you shut up for once, mom!?” I yell. My eyes just closed shut as I screamed out the sentence I’ve been thinking about. “I want to be alone!” Everything goes quiet.
I can hear a sniffle behind the door and then some steps. After around 30 seconds, I couldn't hear anything anymore. She’s left.
My legs slowly give out to my trembling as I sink to the floor.
“It’s all their fault…” I repeat.
“It’s all their fault.”