[ WP ] You are the main character of a poorly written story by a 7th grader , filled to the brim with angst , dark past , black and red attire and general edginess . But you are now made aware of this .

Oh my God, like the world is dark and filled with pain and I'm trying to just get by each day. I put on my black trenchcoat and walk out, all around me are sheep, people why like, totally do n't get that the world is really a dark place and not totally like your conformist make believe land where everything is pink and happy. 
 
 I'm Zack, a totally non-conformist guy who is tall and has long dark hair and does n't have to do what his parents say because they're dead and even though I am only 15 I live by myself in a big cool loft in the city. Actually that's a bit strange as I really should have to have an adult to live with but it's probably because my family are all sheeple but I totally know the truth and being cool has set me free. 
 
 It's late because I do n't have to go to School as my band is like totally already famous and like a hundred thousand people follow us on Instagram and our Vine's get like 20 million loops as everyont thinks we have such crazy cool lives. 
 
 We're like 5 Seconds of Summer but like totally not lame but super cool and dark and edgy. We play gigs like every night and get loads of girls screaming for us and again that's kind of strange as I'm not sure who sets these gigs up... or really how to play the guitar really, we just kind of do it. 
 
 I pull the red trim of my coat around me tightly, red like blood and pain. Blood is my release but... but i'm not sure I've ever seen myself bleed. Actually i'm not sure exactly what I look like.... I mean, I know I am dark and tall and mysterious and cool but... but have I ever looked in a mirror? 
 
 Looking around the street seems, empty, with no detail really. It's a street, sure, and empty as a conformists soul, but apart from that I ca n't really say anything more as there is n't anything else I can say. 
 
 I turn around and go back into my loft and turn on the TV but it's just noise and sadness and pain. There are no actual shows, just unending black and red and pain. My loft is also strangely bleak, it has a huge skate ramp in the middle but no kitchen or bathroom... or bed. Where do I sleep. 
 
 I pull out my phone and check my instagram, it's full of pictures of my and the band rocking out and being awesome but there is nothing else on my phone, no numbers, no apps nothing. How do I even know about Apps? I've never used one. 
 
 My life, when I think about it has flaws and holes, nothing makes sense or works, it's like a cheap story, written by a bad author. No description, nothing beyond the most basic information. One thing my loft does have though is a window, with long billowing curtains around it, black of course. 
 
 The window does n't open and so I punch it in my most metal way and ***fuck*** that hurt. I look down and see blood for the first time and I feel sick, this is n't cool it's *pain*. I stare out over the dark, bleak, empty city and do what I must. I fling myself out and into the abyss and fall down, down into the street. 
 
 I hit the pavement and there is blood and pain and suffering but I'm not actually hurt. And I realise, I am a character and I can not do anything except complete my story and my story is particularly shit. I can not die, I can not change anything. 
 
 I pop the collar on my coat and from my inside pocket I find cigarettes and a lighter. At last something is going my way. I light one up and draw on it but... nothing. Apparently the writer has no idea what smoking is and so neither do I. I guess all I can do it look for the end of the story and the end of this pain... and suffering... and darkness.
