MATT sits cross-legged on his chair mindlessly stuffing sugary cereal in his mouth. Sugar won't get him drunk, which is kind of unfortunate because part of him wishes that he was. Nothing seems to be immediately within reach to take the edge off and the cereal isn't doing anything but make his hands sticky so he stuffs the bag back into the box and puts it back on the shelf.
Hip hop music plays as he stares blankly off. The music is off his friend's album, a friend he hasn't spent any real time with in a year and a half and whose music video Matt was co-producing. The music acts as a nastolgic trigger, trapping him in his thoughts of college life. He longs for it even though he knows he needs to move onto bigger and better things.
It's late. The time at the bottom of his computer moniter shows 2:40AM. He shouldn't be up this late, he know's it's a bad thing because of experience. Staying up late always manages to have a negative effect on him, making him much more depressed than he actually is or has any right to be. He should know better but some invisible force is bolting him to his seat as it always does.
The little voice in the back of his mind screams at him to get up and go to sleep but his body won't comply. He continues wasting time sifting through "facebook" and the past memories that both the music and old pictures manage to conjure up. It's a bad combination and he should know better.
The music comes to an end and he seems to snap out of it a little. Slowly he gets out of his seat and makes his way reluctantly to the bathroom. He's not completely better yet, but maybe washing the sticky sugar off his hands would be a good start.