FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The human mind is both an extraordinary thing, and a terrifying one. It can create, assimilate. It can destroy, even damage itself over time with too much activity. The mind is a chaotic battleground of constant motion; a circle of deadly and inticing images and thoughts. Dreams, Fantasies, even Dark thoughts circle around our minds daily, even while we are unaware. Emotions that create themselves inside, that create that sheer memory or thought. Truly, a work of art and war, the human mind is. I look at myself then, outside looking in, and I realize that I criticized more than I appreciated. I abhored most of my thoughts a lot simpler than just being able to adore them and appreciate what I was. A wrecking ball of emotion, a train wreck of constant arguement.

I take a deep breath, shaking uncontrollably, my head in my hands. I can't stop thinking about the dream I had, the feelings far more clear than the lucid images that had flooded my mind. I could not remember what I had dreamt, but I knew what it meant; another Nightmare. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and trying to collect my senses. I rarely dream, let alone endure tiring Nightmares. But this...this is different. I've woken up with the same feeling of dread in the pit of my chest for the last four days, since the beginning of Thursday morning. Something isn't right, and it apparently has been gnawing at me consistently. With a spirited yawn, I sit up on my ragged futon and place both of my naked feet on the cold carpet. The icy draft from under the nearly-useless front door hits my toes like prickly thorns, and I shiver. I toss up my comforter, and hunt for the socks I had discarded during the troubled sleep of last night. Finally, the cotton reaches my hand, and I tug both socks out easily, sliding them on each foot, first my right foot, my left following. With a grumpy and disheartened grunt, I stand up, cracking my back as I stretch with both arms above my head. I toss a lazy glance at my digital clock on the dresser, and give a heavy sigh. 12:38PM. Fuck, I think to myself. So much for an early start today. Monday, here we go. I slide myself to the side of the glass table in front of my futon-bed, to carefully avoid clipping my foot on its edges for the millionth time. Sure, the table is really close to my bed, and sure, there isnt much space to maneuver. But where else would the TV go? I need it near where I sit and sleep, the damn thing keeps me entertained. Not much space to move around in, with this small apartment. But hell. At least I got TV. After I clear the table, I start heading for the kitchen. I grab a dirty glass from the kitchen counter, inspecting it before turning on the hot water to rinse it out. Me and my roommate have a lot of dirty dishes, but there's no way to really keep 'em all clean. Too much shit going on, or rather, too much shit going on inside both of our heads. I take the sink faucet and rinse the glass clean, setting it down before shutting the water off. I open the cupboard, grabbing a small container with drink mix inside, pouring enough for the one glass, and run cold water in it to mix. I stir it up with one finger, putting the mix back in the cupboard before draining the glass with one gulp. There was never any fucking food in the house, but at least we got red drink mix. Breakfast of champions. At least I'm not gonna have a fat guy I can see through crashing through my wall to congratulate me on the choice of drink mix. I set the glass down on the dirty counter, ignoring the mess around me with apparent purpose, going to the bathroom just feet away from the kitchen entrance. I push the door open as far as I can, my hand right below a 'Mens' sign that my roommate had jokingly erected. Yep, I'm taking a morning piss. Not a coffee piss that smells awful, the morning piss you take when you roll out of bed like anyone else, but haven't been up long enough to brew a cup of joe. And writing about it so that you can hear me take a piss. Aren't you lucky. After a few shakes, I look at the sizeable pile of clothing on the cramped bathroom floor, sifting through the pile to find a somewhat-clean shirt and matching pants. Having no washer or dryer in the house made things for me and my roommate difficult, as we usually had to plan laundry trips. I could care less today, as this was all just normal shit. I finally find a passable outfit, and toss them next to the toilet on the floor, on top of all the gaming review magazines. Now there was something special. Bathroom reading at its finest, piled haphazardly on the floor with bent pages, front images showing the latest greatest game that millions of poor bastards would buy. Ah well. At least they all keep busy. I lean to the shower curtain, holding it to the side as I turn the shower on, first cold then hot. Cold only went a few notches to the left, but the hot ALWAYS went all the way to the left. I can't stand cold showers. I feel a sharp pain on my skull as the shower curtain bar falls and bangs me hard on the dome. I curse, as I struggle to keep the bar steady again, positioning it with the holes in the wall that supported it. Yes, because my roommate couldn't mount it properly. Bash two holes in the wall, and you're good. Eh, fuck it. At least it kind of works. I step into the hot shower from the other side of the tub, gingerly tiptoeing inside as I block my genitals from the scalding water, to turn around and let the hot water pitter-patter all around my mid-back. The pained, sore feeling I felt when I had awaken slowly begins to fade away, and I give a satisfied sigh. The water feels good, calming me as I reach for my soap and shampoo. I wash myself, careful to put everything back into my little haven-corner of the tub. If my soap and shampoo don't enter that sacred realm, then it would cease to me mine. And I am very protective of MY soap. And MY shampoo. I turn the water off, shaking the water off and wiping my body down before grabbing a towel. The pains return in a somewhat slower pace than before, ready to grasp me once the heated water started getting colder, the droplets on my skin doing nothing to make me warm. I wipe myself off, wiping myself with closed eyes, stepping out of the tub after sidestepping the falling shower curtain bar again. Goddamn it. I hate that fucking bar. Every damn time that bar falls. Still a bit grumpy, I crouch down so that I can see myself in the short-people mirror, ruffling my hair until I'm satisfied with it, grabbing my glasses from the dirty sink counter so that I could see myself. I grab my underwear, tugging them on before putting my ragged jeans on as well, tying a black and silver belt to my waist before finally tugging my shirt back on. I ruffle my hair again, the shirt having mussed it up. Perfect. Love doing things twice. I check my teeth, flicking my tongue around the fakes so that I could make sure they still looked real. Good. No rotting molars today. Mommy would be proud. I exit the bathroom with my somewhat-clean socks in hand, and navigate back to the bed. I sit down, carefully avoiding the table again before doing so. Tugging each sock on is easy, and I give a comfortable sigh before turning my computer tower on. Bleep. Boop. BeepBeepBloop. My self-built tower always made itself known, making beeping noises before it clicked on its processes. I turn on the small flatscreen on my glass table, only a few feet away as the screen glows a dark blue, before phasing into my quaint desktop. Now, it's important to understand something. While I can't really afford any food or, really, my own apartment, I always do have something. The Internet. I click on my browser, the icon with the vulpine on a ball. For some reason, the thing is on fire. Foxes are so damn weird. I open up my search bar, and type in 'local jobs'. I grumble with a seriousface, the empty stare, the same face I always give when I look for work. I open a second window, my resume in plain view. Paragraphs and lines with contact information and work experience flooded the window with 2 pages of unimportant life-story that somehow lands a person work if the snooty fuck-face that's hiring decides to hire you. Qualified or not, they always seem to pick the asshole who's shit doesn't smell as bad as every other asshole they deal with daily. I take another glance at the digital clock, just to look. 1:04 PM. Great. Most Managers don't check their recruitment emails after noon, unless they get a pleading phone call by some other eager asshole, and not you. If they do, they push it til later anyway. Time to hit the grindstone anyway, I already lost too much time today, I thought to myself. During the course of a few hours, I find a few open spots. A few retail locations, a local diner hiring a cook. Even a big-time Regional Manager job. But everyone knows that those jobs are saved for assholes who went to more school to learn from other pricks how common sense is performed in a specific 'career' path, with a piece of paper that says they might be able to do it because they read a few books. A thought of irritation flickers past my membrane as I click something else. I glance to the digital clock again, as I hear a text message bleep on my phone with an over-joyous jangle. 4:14PM. Perfect. Four applications put in, and a few confirmation emails saying 'Thanks for attempting'. What a damn productive day, for a disheartened dreg of society. I check my text message, a picture with two little pug dogs staring back at me with a caption, 'Look, the boys wanted to hang out with me. Im such a popular bitch'. I give my first smile of the day, my dimples showing slightly. That girl always had a way of making me grin like an idiot. I shoot her a text back, attempting to sound interested, 'Gorgeous gal like you, i'm not surprised. =) Love you sweetheart'. Five Hundred miles. That's how far she is from me. That's what makes me get up every day and do this same thing over and over. She's worth every last bit of effort, this woman. I tell myself every day that I'll go to the ends of the earth, yet I find myself going nowhere even while I try my damnedest. Yet, she still loves me just as much when I tell her that I don't have work, seemingly every day. I worry my ass off, but I keep going. I sigh, setting down the phone and stretching out my arms, popping a joint or two. Damn. Twenty Four years old, and my body thinks I'm an old man. Goodbye stamina, hello arthritis. I stand up, tiptoeing my way through another pile of clothes, and nab the coffee pot to tiptoe to the kitchen again. I brew up a pot of coffee, a bag of it with a large donut on the front, and the words 'hazelnut' telling me that it's a bean that's designed to taste more like nuts. Huh. I guess I do taste nuts more often than I'd care to admit. The coffee is damn tasty though, and that's why I buy it. I pour a cup, powdering some bit of cream into my cup, and a bit of sugar. I picked my favorite mug, showing off mountains and a big moose. Purple, but normal sized. I lay back now, finally clicking off the notepad and browser to watch a few movies, the day being over. As far as applying for work goes, anyway. Gangster movie, oversized ego-pricks with guns, making more money than a poor man could even say he'd ever seen. Because watching men kill each other on TV and make more money than I do is exciting somehow. I yawn widely, half-closing my eyes as I see the digital clock. 10:47PM. Already. Goddamn it, this shit went both too fast and too slow. I set my cup down, before clicking on a few computer applicatios to make them shut off. I reach up behind me, clicking off my lamp before sliding my keyboard off my lap, and shoving my mouse to a different part of the futon. I close my eyes, curling to the side like a two year old, a proud fetal position easing me to rest. I finally find my peace, slipping off into that moment where you aren't quite asleep yet, but you're feeling calm and ready for it. It's that moment of Zen and Clarity where I finally let my mind wander, letting it draw its own conclusions from the day's events, and where I am in life. That's where I wake up the very next day, shaking again. My body shivering as I hold my head, trying to recollect myself from the night's previous lucid images. I feel that familiar pit again, that grumpy and disheartened feeling, before checking my digital clock again. 12:26PM. Fuck, I think to myself. So much for an early start today. Tuesday, you're here again.