Dave straightened the shades resting above his nose. He drew his knees in towards him, and wrapped his arms around his legs. Laying his cheek on his knee, he sighed deeply. Dave Strider, cool kid. He was really getting tired of living up to that facade. Sure, he had friends. They thought he was actually really cool; so it didn't seem much of like a self-proclaimed title at all. Yet somewhere, deep down, he felt empty.
As if a part of his very soul was missing, but he didn't know why. He had everything he could possibly want for the time being. Dave got the peace and quiet that he often longed for, and the solitude of the blankets around him and his laptop late at night, owls calling softly in the distance. But yet, he didn't.
Something about his life, his friends, how he acted and his actions. They all seemed tired and worn out anymore; as if they had no purpose whatsoever. His ideals were not of a solid gold nor silver, but rather a tarnished bronze. He knew little right from wrong and would often get caught up in the confusions of his everyday life. Dave Strider, apparent cool kid. Dave Strider, calm and professional. Dave Strider, feeling dead inside and not wanting to go on for much longer at all.