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He could feel it.
It was happening again and he didn’t know how to stop it. The same cycle that repeated itself over and over again. The one that made him lose his godddamned mind. At times like these, it was always too quiet. Too quiet.
So he talked, he let down his walls, he overshared, and he let too much of himself show. He laughed, he fought, he sighed, and his face told everyone a little too much.
He could feel himself pull away again. He could feel himself becoming too much of a bother to everyone else. People would stop replying, some would cancel plans, and others just started looking at them in that way.
What a shame, he liked this group of friends.
They were kind, always hung out together and actually made him feel welcomed. That was until he felt like he talked too much, bothered everyone else, made too many comments that felt like he was putting pressure on everyone else just because he felt like shit. It was the most open he’d been in years, and maybe because he felt like the control over his own emotions was breaking the more he told them he felt like shit, he was starting to pull away again.
Schlatt, however, was his best friend. He loved him, he really did. He told him practically everything, from his issues to his fantasies. Schlatt commented on his words sometimes, and sometimes told him things too. But Wilbur didn’t always know how to respond, so he changed the subject on him constantly. It was getting to a point where he believed he was self-centered and annoying Schlatt - though Schlatt constantly told him that he wasn’t.
He told Schlatt about his eating disorder. He told him about his habit of not drinking enough water (he went days without drinking water, still does actually). He told him about his private songs, which he’s never shown anyone before. He told him about his wildest fantasies even. But he never ever told him about his incessant need for attention, and he’s pretty sure Schlatt knows that already.
But Wilbur knew that like all the times before it would go the same way.
He finds a group of friends,
He talks,
He says too much,
He pulls away,
They leave.
He talks, and he talks, and talks, and talks, and talks, and talks, and talks.
And they leave, they leave, they leave, they leave.
Every year, the cycle continues, and every fucking year, Wilbur gets new friends.
But right now, right now Wilbur has a group of friends.
Wilbur’s talking.
And Wilbur’s pulling away.
He knows- he knows that it will be better tomorrow. He just needs to make it to tomorrow. He’ll forget everything he’s thought of today in favor of laughing with his friends tomorrow. He just needs to go to sleep. He just needs to reset the day.
He’ll forget by tomorrow.
And he’ll talk.
And he’ll talk.
And talk.
And
Talk.
He goes to sleep.
He wakes up.
A new day.