A/N: I never read JTHM before, but I wanted to try writing something for this series. To be totally honest with you, the closest thing to JTHM that I have read are the fanfics, some scraps of scans, quotes here and there (I'm going over the stars) and Wikipedia.
So, sorry for anything wrong with Johnny….
The first fic I made out of the Anime category!!
Down On His Luck
It was in the bleak and weary night that my dreams are haunted and I cannot find it in myself to fall asleep. It took the darkness away, and would always be replaced with something of more fearful content.
My ever none existent heart beat was running a mile in my chest as I twist my head, left and right. I threw it back once again to my offering pillow, which ate up the upper layer of my scalp.
My colder than ice fingertips bite into the moth eaten mattress of mine, as my feet kicked off the blanket letting it fall to the ground unceremoniously.
Beads of sweat fall down from the spitting skin of my face, wetting my hair that was sticking possessively to the flesh on my head. Other parts of my body began to fill up with the waters of anxiety and started to pour out through the unseen pores of my body.
In my confusion, set inside the ever so wonderful world of my deranged dream land, I was going at full speed to whatever direction my subconscious forced my little vision me to go.
And as I hit a dead, the tip of the cliff, looking down below to a fate worse than hell and Jimmy combined.
If I was a mortal man with feeling- or that feeling with that gets people shivery and…- I think I would have shuddered or something. Which evil should I take? The one that is the darkness below or the chasing demons that are running me down like wild packs of dogs.
They are both not on the promising side of the list and normal people would just let whatever take them. But, hey, I'm not your normal kind of guy anyway.
My decision was left unused and unheard as I felt the ground beneath my feet wobble. The tiny cracks were forming beside my black boots and before I knew it, they have formed a plethora of lines that then broke. And I was off screaming, falling into whatever doom awaited me downstairs.
I sat up, wondering should I be relieved to be still breathing- sweat raining from my whole lanky form- or depressed at the thought that I am still staring at the doughboys that screw me around every day.
For Styrofoam beings, you should be aware that they have minds of their own. Years and years have rolled by, and they have conquered most of my thoughts. They tell me to die, die and die. Point that metal thing on your head, pull the trigger and let the blood go flopping to the floor.
I would love to do that though, but for some abominable reason I find my ass kicked off Death's list again and again. (How infuriating to have a gun and only have one, just one not two, bullet hiding inside). Suicide hasn't been on my side ever since, I don't know. It is like what I said before; I always seem to get away with everything.
It scares me sometimes.
Life has been very unkind to me, taking away memories that rightfully belonged to me. I think if I were to have those puzzles of reminisce back to my psyche, I don't think I would feel this depressed. Or this deranged. Or I wouldn't have this want to kill people just for picking their noses in front of me.
There are times when I do wonder what is wrong with me.
Maybe I should get something to eat and a towel perhaps. I feel like I just fell into an ocean, even my bed is dripping with the attack of my sweat.
Wonder what is up with these nightmares that torture me, they give me the most bittersweet glimpses of a nigh that I feel is just reserved for me.
God must be having a real good time laughing his big, fat baby ass up in heaven.