SLOTH/MIN YOONGI

He laid in his bed, staring up at the dirty white ceiling, memorising tiny cracks in the material. He closed his eyes, letting his body sink into the linen sheets. Min Yoongi did nothing. Nothing in the world could drive him out of the rundown apartment he called home. Daily agendas were nothing that could be called eventful. The days just passed by, and he'd watch through the windows as the world went on. He never did much before anyways. Min Yoongi was just another blank face in the crowd of even more blank faces. Life didnt seem to be important; it's just something given to you. You don't have to live it, you have a choice to either become another toy in this sick game of life, or to go against it and become rejected; spending days after weeks after months cooped up contemplating life. Doing nothing was how he spent the day. Sleep didnt seem to come easy, neither would staying awake. He was stuck in a lazy state, a place inbetween the two lines. And there was nothing to stop it. Too lazy for effort. He could try, but he won't. He'd rather spend the time he has slotted for useless pasttimes.