Whatever

A sigh dyed in anxiety slips past her lips. Her eyes bounce from fingers to screen, refusing to steady on any one point. Each breath fighting to control the complexity deep in her chest.

"Whatever." she mumbles, pushing her chair away from the desk in defeat.

This feeling she knows all too well. A happiness that is fleeting and ending. A routine shattering and warping. An emptiness creeping and looming.

This desk is a graveyard. Filled with old loves and memories that are buried underneath tamped wounds and scars. Countless relationships ceasing their path forward here, behind the strokes of a keyboard.

Whatever. Eight simple letters obscuring the true intents. Hiding all the words that hold any actual relevance. Blocking out any feeling that so desperately yearns to be found. Until all that's left is haunting. Nightmarish and brutal. A crippling and unrelenting cast of intricacies that is loneliness.