Chapter Text
" Dasher found out about it. I thought I did a good job hiding the one thing I didn't want her to know, and I did, but I guess I expected us to last longer.
She said she knew I "do those kinds of things", that It was obvious from the start, she just didn't want to believe It.
After that, she didn't want to do anything with me. She just couldn't handle the absolute train-wreck that I am. And It's fine. Not everyone can handle me. I deserve It."
Those words were poured with Ink onto a piece of paper I just ripped from some book, and you can clearly tell. The ripped side Is nowhere near having a clean line, and It's all crumpled up from sheer anger and carelessness. It was left on a nightstand, almost glued to It with a stain of some dried liquid left from a cup, I don't remember what It was. But next to this pathetic attempt of a suicide note was a half empty can, which I pick up seconds before gaining my consciousness. It's not the greatest thing to take a chug out of when you're barely awake, but anything to drink Is good enough when you're absolutely dried.
"It's fine," I think to myself. "I'll have myself a glass of water beside my bed next time."
Despite checking off the first boxes of getting ready In the morning, I just laid there. I can't go back to sleeping, the sun Is shining awfully bright, even though It's the middle of autumn, and I stretched too hard I think I sprained something. But I can't get up. I was left staring up at the ceiling of my room. Not even acknowledging what's on It, just staring at one point, not a single thought In my head. At least, not any that spoke to me loud enough.
After what felt like forever, I thought I should just get my clothes, which usually was either on my bed or the closest next to It. So I turn my head to the left along with the best of my body, to see a pile of cloths and rags right next to me. On my bed, on the floor next to It, on the full length mirror that I covered up with a blanket. Wonderful. It's wonderful how many things can barely change over the years. A pile of clothes on the side of my bed, just like how I like It.
I finally sat back up again after tossing and turning. It was about damn time I should do something for today.
I glanced around my room. My... usually dark room. Every once In a while I actually pulled the curtains up of my window to let the light In, and It's around the time when you get your last change to feel the sun. I like the feeling of sunshine on my skin. I put my hand out under the beaming rays of warmth. This will only get colder, winter's coming around real soon. This sucks.
Finally, I got up off the bed and pace around my room, thick with the scent of forgotten laundry. Floor and table sprinkled with scraps from small projects, projects missing my passion for what feels like years. What this room was once a colourful tapestry that felt like you walked Into It... has become a dull, dust collector with four walls and a window that was just a few bars away from becoming a jail cell. That and maybe the sliver of light painting the bed, trailing towards to the corner.
I glanced at It through the corner of my eye. Just lightly eyeing It down. The light was pointing at the area I decorated with a pouffe, a tiny table, and two big pinboards, packed with sketches of mine. Just to look at It closer, I tread towards them, dragging one foot in front of the other, basically dragging my socks down against the carpet. I want to be quickly reminded of who I was again. Of what I was.
Doodles over sketches over notes and writings. Some of them... Well, most of them were self-portraits.
Skimming through them made me notice how you could barely see the pinboard Itself anymore. It was just covered with pages and sticky notes, pins and thumbtacks, even the rims of the board were covered with stickers and photobooth pictures of...
...Me and...
Dasher.
She looked happier than I remembered.
We used to go to the same photobooth to take silly pictures together. I loved being with her, she made me feel things I never thought I would. She made me think I could be loved, despite who I am, despite what I am.
I miss her. I miss her more than anything.
She was all I could ever want.
I met her when I was at one of my lowest points In my life. I made a vow to myself that everything I would do, I'd do It for her. I would do my best of anything and everything, just for her. But now she's gone.
A lump formed In my throat at the thought. A tight, unwelcoming knot that made It hard to swallow. "I'll never feel the embrace In her arms", I continue to think to myself. It was like a dam about to burst, holding back a torrent of emotions I couldn't quite name. "I'll never get to feel her kisses, the way they trailed down my face." My vision blured, the edges of everything softening as If I was looking through a thick layer of mist. My breath caught in my chest, a shallow, rapid gasp that betrayed the storm brewing within me. She'll never treat me the same way, even behind closed doors. These thoughts that brought me Into this precipice, a phantom pain I couldn't Ignore, t's a feeling I knew too well. It told me that I was about to break.
My knees buckled, the impact of a loud thud againt the floor. Tears were streaming down my face, my surroundings became Irrelevant as my vision blured. Each ugly sob followed with a ragged gasp, a desperate attempt to release the pain that I've bottled up for days. I wanted to curl myself up and never look at anything ever again. I don't want anyone to see me ever again. I don't want to think of her ever again, not like this.
I want to be soothed. I don't want to be soothed. I want to say her name one last time, I don't want to look Into her eyes. I want her. I don’t need her. I loved her. No, I didnt. God, I miss her so much.
I cling onto my head, letting my fingers run down my hair. Even when they got caught in knots and tangles, I still kept tugging down until my head hit the ground. I couldn't tell If I wanted to claw my body out and tear my guts apart, or If I didnt want a single thing touching me ever again.
There's a bruise Inside me that I can’t reach. It spreads all over my body and It hollows me out for each time I remember that woman. And yet, there's something calming about this. I thought I would have to sink Into wreackage and experience grief through all the layers of my vulnerability, but I felt.. a strange comfort In all of this. It felt like I deserved the outcome. Maybe I wasn't meant to be whole. After all, perhaps I was more familiar with the feeling of emptiness than the feeling contentment.
I choked on my tears. "God, what's wrong with me?" I thought to myself out loud. "I can't even mourn her". I wasn't proud of this. I never wanted to admit It. But the emptiness, the false sense of affection... It felt like I belonged to be with her. Maybe she was right, I really can't be helped. I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I don’t know how to keep going if she’s not there, if I’m not doing it for her. How do you live when your only reason Is gone?
...My only reason Is gone.
My only reason
Is gone.
My hands lightly lower down to the ground, feeling the carpet floor. I wipe the snot off my face and try to take a few deep breaths.
I should stop thinking about her. I really should.