With every creak and groan of the stale wooden floorboards I grow even more weary.
The house was new when I received it as a gift from my mother.
But after years of parties, drinking, and all-nighters; the house began to mimic my condition.
This was okay until I came to the stark realization that the house was becoming more and more dilapidated.
I tried everything to fix it, eating right, going to bed at a decent time, even calling off all future social gatherings.
I would lay down to sleep every night like normal until they whispering from underneath my bed began.
"He's too far gone" The first voice would say.
" We just have to hope he'll recover" The deeper voice would say.
I would listen to them conversing for hours on end. Endlessly droning on about my health.
The next morning I found out my door was sealed shut by some mysterious people outside of my home.
They wore white and red clothing and just stared at the house as they drove away.
I checked my house shortly after for another exit, but those were sealed too.
I decided to lay back down in bed to see if i could get some more rest.
A new set of voices emerged from underneath my bed.
" He won't make it past the month if we don't do something"
" Yes,but he must fight too. We can't do all the work."
Finally someone can help me through this, but i've gotten so used to the house looking this way it's become comfortable.
I don't need help, in my opinion.
"We can pull him out of this."
I woke up and the house had finally began completely falling apart and a deafening beeping sound was being emitted from somewhere slowing down in pace with my heart beat.
I received one of the worst shocks of my life and i suddenly woke up in a hospital bed.
I looked around the room and at my self my skin was dark and unnatural with pricks everywhere.
My breath reeked of alcohol and i felt so jittery.
I noticed my parents out side the room and doctors everywhere.
What happened to me.
When did the fun become such a horrible habit and issue...