As I lie here with my mind racing from thought to thought, the fan is going at a medium speed cooling my heated self. The ripped poster on my wall flapping repeatedly with every cycle the fan makes. Outside these room walls the TV blaring is constantly diverting my attention, not granting me the opportunity to finish my thoughts. Making it incomplete. But I'm used to not being full, and never feeling complete...there's always a void within me, nothing seems to fill it, leaving me too incomplete. The thought alone makes me feel useless and unaccomplished, makes me wonder does anyone else feel that w-? The sound of the front door breaks my train of thoughts leaving it once again incomplete. The two family dogs go into a barking rampage even though it's just my dad coming home from another long day away doing whatever it is he does. At the moment I'm glad I'm in my room, 'sleeping,' I don't have to listen to his pathetic questions he asks just to seem like he cares I'm not to stupid to see through them, frankly no one is. The dogs finally calm down allowing me to get back to my incomplete thoughts.