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Description
Humanity is ugly. Those that you think you can trust will always break your heart, tear you down, beat you to the ground. It was this perspective that landed Mark in the position that he found himself in. This reliance on drugs that fuelled his self hate and hate to those around him, when they asked this shell of a man, why he did it, he would respond with naught but "Life isn`t something bright and happy, its not something I want to be a part of. Suicide is a coward`s way out, so I`ll be content living my drug induced fantasy." Jobless and lifeless, he spent his days peddling, selling, doing drugs, and sleeping. That was his life, nothing but one long deadly dream that spiralled out of control, always.

He laid on the couch asleep in his daze of indulgence. To him, this was being alive and awake because the real world to him seemed to be nothing but a barrage of nightmares that haunted him forever until he wasn`t sober, until he wasn`t falling into his pit of surreal self fortification that came from the gratification he felt while under the effect of his vices. Hair so black in the pale light that illuminated his small run down apartment.

This for him, was true living.

He justified this with, what's the point of working? Work to rest and rest to work. Not caring about responsibilities that he had as a human being, all who he had once known had given up on this man long ago. Mark was awoken by a ringing doorbell, he moved lethargically off of his couch, stumbling over cans, dirty clothes and the occasional dirty needle, to answer it. His body swaying to the harmonic sound of self medication. As he opened the door, the light blinded him, he saw a face at the centre of such light, if he wasn`t a religious man, or didn`t know he was still under the influence, he would of thought the man to be an angel of some kind. "Is a Mark Carvin at this residence?" The man asked, Mark, who could finally see through the sunshine, saw that it was a postman. "Yeah, what?" Mark coldly responded. " A package, sign here" the postman said as he pushed forward a parcel.

Signing for it, he quickly slammed the door and tore it open. Inside he saw a bundle of money, and a note. The note was fresh and of a pure white hue, it smelled like good memories to Mark, a scent that reminded him of a life that left him long ago. Opening it, he read aloud to himself its contents with a deep breath.

Mark…

I know its been so long, since we`ve seen one another, I always have loved you, you know that don`t you?

Well… I`m dying Mark, the doctors have given me four more weeks… There is something I need to tell you, so badly…

You have a daughter. Mark, a daughter, a little baby girl.

I know you must hate me so much right now, so much…

But I couldn`t tell you… You were gone and I knew you didn`t love me any more, I need you, as I seem to always do, right? Please, come say fair well to me. That money is enough for a plane ticket there and back.

Yours forever
Jill

He closed the note, an overwhelming array of feelings fought over him, a sour mixture of soul crippling sadness, bitter anger set the overtone for each emotion he felt. Why did she keep this from him? He would of stayed damn it! But, maybe that's why she didn`t tell him? She didn`t want to keep him there for the sake of a child when he felt nothing for her. He didn`t care, he wasn`t going to show up, he had made his mind up.

Still rereading the note he sat down on his dirty couch, there was nothing that was going to make him go, nothing…

Except, towards the end of the note he saw stains of water, tears? He knew that there was a chance of this being in his head but, he was sure that he knew what it was. The stain snapped something inside of him, his body shot out of the couch and sent him shooting into his room, going through all of his drawers and pulling out every dollar he could find and then left, with nothing but the clothes on his back.

His feet hit the ground, at this moment he found himself in a concrete jungle, a soulless creation of plastic and steel. To Mark, the city was naught but a giant stilted heart wrapped in plastic smiles that beat to its own self destructive rhythm. He took a large breath before continuing down the street, his senses were assailed by a mixture of cigarette smoke and burning petrol.

Mark`s relationship with Jill was a unique one, both were adopted off at the young age of five. Mark was the son of a couple of scared teens, who had no way to give him a life that he deserves. Despite knowing this, Mark still holds a great resentment towards his own parents, as he was adopted off to an abusive couple for many years before being taken back by his care worker, who saved him from a life of emotional torment and physical abuse.

Raised in government flats, with the rest of the teenagers that were too old and too strong headed to be adopted out. Mark met Jill at the age of fifteen , Jill had a very similar story to Mark`s. They dated for four years. Despite them having one another, they would often turn to drugs, yet managed to keep it in moderation, always avoiding addiction for each other`s sake.

Jill served to be Mark`s shining light, was the first person that he had completely and totally loved, without question, he would do almost anything for her. That's why this next part hurt him so much. He walked in on Jill having sex with a stranger. Anger had stolen his mind, sadness stolen his tongue and without a word Mark left. Packed all of his things, and took off, never to see Jill again.

There was no place too far for Mark, as he ran from the emotions that chased after him. So he left the country, as a way of forgetting every memory he had of Jill. In his darkest moments

No place on earth he could go would spare him the pain of what had happened. So Mark retreated into his mind with the help of a drug. Diacetylmorphine.

Heroin.

The cogs ticked and turned in Mark`s head, he was silent, lost in the ever flowing barrage of thoughts and emotions that threatened to consume him whole. He could hardly believe where he was. On a plane who`s destination was directly back to Jill, the one girl that had caused him so much pain.

Mark adjusted himself uncomfortably in his seat, the overwhelming noise had amalgamated itself with the claustrophobic heat that rendered Mark in a cold sweat.

"Not a fan of planes?" His passenger said happily, directing a smile towards Mark. She looked about the same age as Mark, hair a shining blond with renegade blue streaks flowing through it. Glasses adorned her face, thick framed and large, what a fashionista would most likely call 'hipster glasses'. The girl smelled… Well, like a girl. As she reeked like the barbarized artificial scent of 'flowers'

"Oh, uh, nah` not really. Too much noise and too many people crammed into one space for me to be able to relax. Reminds me of a can of tuna or somethin`" Mark stated, the sudden happiness that radiated from of this girl caught him off guard. She giggled at his response, what the hell does she want from me? Mark thought as he adjusted once more. She saw Mark`s puzzled expression "Hey! You`re a pretty funny guy! Well, I`m Sara, nice to meet you…" Sara said, and paused as if to ask for his name, it took awhile for Mark to realize that it wasn`t actually the end of the conversation. "Mark, nice to meet you too, Sara" He answered awkwardly.

Description
Humanity is ugly. Those that you think you can trust will always break your heart, tear you down, beat you to the ground. It was this perspective that landed Mark in the position that he found himself in. This reliance on drugs that fuelled his self hate and hate to those around him, when they asked this shell of a man, why he did it, he would respond with naught but "Life isn`t something bright and happy, its not something I want to be a part of. Suicide is a coward`s way out, so I`ll be content living my drug induced fantasy." Jobless and lifeless, he spent his days peddling, selling, doing drugs, and sleeping. That was his life, nothing but one long deadly dream that spiralled out of control, always.

He laid on the couch asleep in his daze of indulgence. To him, this was being alive and awake because the real world to him seemed to be nothing but a barrage of nightmares that haunted him forever until he wasn`t sober, until he wasn`t falling into his pit of surreal self fortification that came from the gratification he felt while under the effect of his vices. Hair so black in the pale light that illuminated his small run down apartment.

This for him, was true living.

He justified this with, what's the point of working? Work to rest and rest to work. Not caring about responsibilities that he had as a human being, all who he had once known had given up on this man long ago. Mark was awoken by a ringing doorbell, he moved lethargically off of his couch, stumbling over cans, dirty clothes and the occasional dirty needle, to answer it. His body swaying to the harmonic sound of self medication. As he opened the door, the light blinded him, he saw a face at the centre of such light, if he wasn`t a religious man, or didn`t know he was still under the influence, he would of thought the man to be an angel of some kind. "Is a Mark Carvin at this residence?" The man asked, Mark, who could finally see through the sunshine, saw that it was a postman. "Yeah, what?" Mark coldly responded. " A package, sign here" the postman said as he pushed forward a parcel.

Signing for it, he quickly slammed the door and tore it open. Inside he saw a bundle of money, and a note. The note was fresh and of a pure white hue, it smelled like good memories to Mark, a scent that reminded him of a life that left him long ago. Opening it, he read aloud to himself its contents with a deep breath.

Mark…

I know its been so long, since we`ve seen one another, I always have loved you, you know that don`t you?

Well… I`m dying Mark, the doctors have given me four more weeks… There is something I need to tell you, so badly…

You have a daughter. Mark, a daughter, a little baby girl.

I know you must hate me so much right now, so much…

But I couldn`t tell you… You were gone and I knew you didn`t love me any more, I need you, as I seem to always do, right? Please, come say fair well to me. That money is enough for a plane ticket there and back.

Yours forever
Jill

He closed the note, an overwhelming array of feelings fought over him, a sour mixture of soul crippling sadness, bitter anger set the overtone for each emotion he felt. Why did she keep this from him? He would of stayed damn it! But, maybe that's why she didn`t tell him? She didn`t want to keep him there for the sake of a child when he felt nothing for her. He didn`t care, he wasn`t going to show up, he had made his mind up.

Still rereading the note he sat down on his dirty couch, there was nothing that was going to make him go, nothing…

Except, towards the end of the note he saw stains of water, tears? He knew that there was a chance of this being in his head but, he was sure that he knew what it was. The stain snapped something inside of him, his body shot out of the couch and sent him shooting into his room, going through all of his drawers and pulling out every dollar he could find and then left, with nothing but the clothes on his back.

His feet hit the ground, at this moment he found himself in a concrete jungle, a soulless creation of plastic and steel. To Mark, the city was naught but a giant stilted heart wrapped in plastic smiles that beat to its own self destructive rhythm. He took a large breath before continuing down the street, his senses were assailed by a mixture of cigarette smoke and burning petrol.

Mark`s relationship with Jill was a unique one, both were adopted off at the young age of five. Mark was the son of a couple of scared teens, who had no way to give him a life that he deserves. Despite knowing this, Mark still holds a great resentment towards his own parents, as he was adopted off to an abusive couple for many years before being taken back by his care worker, who saved him from a life of emotional torment and physical abuse.

Raised in government flats, with the rest of the teenagers that were too old and too strong headed to be adopted out. Mark met Jill at the age of fifteen , Jill had a very similar story to Mark`s. They dated for four years. Despite them having one another, they would often turn to drugs, yet managed to keep it in moderation, always avoiding addiction for each other`s sake.

Jill served to be Mark`s shining light, was the first person that he had completely and totally loved, without question, he would do almost anything for her. That's why this next part hurt him so much. He walked in on Jill having sex with a stranger. Anger had stolen his mind, sadness stolen his tongue and without a word Mark left. Packed all of his things, and took off, never to see Jill again.

There was no place too far for Mark, as he ran from the emotions that chased after him. So he left the country, as a way of forgetting every memory he had of Jill. In his darkest moments

No place on earth he could go would spare him the pain of what had happened. So Mark retreated into his mind with the help of a drug. Diacetylmorphine.

Heroin.

The cogs ticked and turned in Mark`s head, he was silent, lost in the ever flowing barrage of thoughts and emotions that threatened to consume him whole. He could hardly believe where he was. On a plane who`s destination was directly back to Jill, the one girl that had caused him so much pain.

Mark adjusted himself uncomfortably in his seat, the overwhelming noise had amalgamated itself with the claustrophobic heat that rendered Mark in a cold sweat.

"Not a fan of planes?" His passenger said happily, directing a smile towards Mark. She looked about the same age as Mark, hair a shining blond with renegade blue streaks flowing through it. Glasses adorned her face, thick framed and large, what a fashionista would most likely call 'hipster glasses'. The girl smelled… Well, like a girl. As she reeked like the barbarized artificial scent of 'flowers'

"Oh, uh, nah` not really. Too much noise and too many people crammed into one space for me to be able to relax. Reminds me of a can of tuna or somethin`" Mark stated, the sudden happiness that radiated from of this girl caught him off guard. She giggled at his response, what the hell does she want from me? Mark thought as he adjusted once more. She saw Mark`s puzzled expression "Hey! You`re a pretty funny guy! Well, I`m Sara, nice to meet you…" Sara said, and paused as if to ask for his name, it took awhile for Mark to realize that it wasn`t actually the end of the conversation. "Mark, nice to meet you too, Sara" He answered awkwardly.