Sadness

I'm sitting at my desk, messing with a broken pair of scissors. I'd fix them, but a part's missing. And I don't have any glue that'll bind metal and plastic. My desk is kind of a mess. Papers piling up, countless little trinkets sitting beneath them. A bunch of snapped rubber bands are in front of me too. I'm running out of water in my glass. It's been dark outside since 5pm, and my light is off. The white glare coming from the screen is hurting my eyes a bit. I don't mind. I have a little picture taped to my wall in front of me, interrupting the little paintings I litter my room with. Me with my friends. Happy. Those friends are gone now. I look at the leftover stationery scattered around my room from my time in school every once in a while. It reminds me of you, John. I still carry that pen I "borrowed" from you with me everywhere I go. It's only fair, you still have my ruler. I've lost my glasses again. Watching TV isn't the same without talking to you about it. I miss correcting your spelling. I miss being annoyed that you can't read time.

I don't know what this is. All I started with was scissors.