The longest hours of my life.

It was a normal day. Normal things were happening. The weather was as it was, there were no dark voids in the sky to suggest a disaster was about to occur. There were no signs, nothing that could possibly have forewarned me about what was about to occur.

I arrived home at approximately twelve minutes past four. As is my usual time. I went up to my room and got changed and sat on the computer, as is my usual order of doing things. So far, so good. There were no upsets, no ripples in the water. My computer turned on fine. It 'connected to the internet' fine.

Then shadaisy. It wasn't working. MSN, no! Internet explorer, no! Spotify, the last possible beacon of hope in a tunnel of fury and fire? No. Fortunately my offline playlist was there as a backup but that did nothing to stop the horrors of what had just occurred.

I was in an offline world. I was not used to it. I was scared. I was alone. It was dark. Nothing was going right. I didn't know what to do. I retreated away from the computer, scared to invoke its wrath further. I did not know what I had done. I sat on my bed, and cried. I cried for a while. Before I realised, I still had one of my most treasured possessions. Something nothing would ever be able to take away from me.

I still had my wankbank.

This was the last bastion of hope I had, the last pillar of sanity. I once again, had to resort to wanking. That is all my life ever comes down to. Wanking. How depressing is that. I didn't text people, (although actually I sent one text on this, the first day. I did not get a reply.) I just wanked. Then it hit me. There are so few people who actually enjoy talking to me. I went through my contacts, thinking who would reply. Almost nobody. This was a distressing revelation.

I wanked.

After my wanking session was over (it was now pretty late at night) I wondered what else I could do.

Get high.

I knew some dealers. They basically live at Priory Gardens and on one of the many occasions where I was kicked out, I befriended them. I decided getting high by walking down to priory gardens and getting weed would be a foolish thing to do. I decided to get high on life. Of course there is no easy way to do this in a room with nothing but an internetless computer (what can you do on a computer for fun without it? Have any of you ever processed words for fun?) and a wii with no games I wanted to play and a completed Xbox, my options were slim. I had exhausted wanking. I had nothing to do. So, naturally, I decided to jump around on my bed. I promptly smashed my head against the ceiling and cried. I was wounded in a world I did not understand.

A dark world.

After this, I decided getting high on life was an impossible thing to achieve considering the devices I had, so I fell asleep, dreaming one of the happiest dreams I ever had. I was depressed when I woke up.

***

Day two of my internetless nightmare was far easier to deal with. I was ready, I had prepared a rational plan of action: To sleep. All day.

This day is far less interesting to describe, so I shall quickly bullet point what happened.

*I slept.
*I woke up, wanked.
*I slept.
*I woke up, wanked.
*I slept.
*I woke up, wanked.
*I slept.
*I woke up, checked my phone. No texts. I got massively depressed and decided shunning all forms of communication would be the best way to survive this nightmare. I got a text. I was depressed when I read it and rudely told the person I did not want to talk. In retrospect that was a terrible idea, but I felt very unappreciated.

Maybe I need to change.
Or more likely, you all need to change.