𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔, ˢᵗᵘʳⁿⁱᵒˡᵒ ᵗʳⁱᵖˡᵉᵗˢ

✦City [Matt]✦

❖･｡:˚ *✿—————✦—————✿* ˚:｡･❖

｡:✿————✿:｡

I wake up but I don't want to get out of bed. Lately I have been feeling awful. I don't even know how to explain my emotions lately. I feel like I can be happy one minute and then me sobbing the other. That's what annoys me because then my friends yell at me for it. They ask why I am so sad and yell at me, feeding into my envious emotions. I just wish I was anyone else. I wish I was the guy with pretty blond hair, I wish I was the guy with millions of friends, and I really wish I could be the guy who couldn't care less about what others think of him. It's breaking me slowly, it's breaking me into pieces. Like shards of glass falling from the sky like rain. When they hit the ground and shatter you can't piece them back together, like you just lost another part of yourself.

Every day multiple shards fall, coming down in downpours, the tears of my emotions. I have no motivation to do anything. I don't want to get out of bed or even get food. I have been slowly starving myself for days now and haven't been drinking very much. I feel sick by how hourse my throat is and how big of a migraine I have. Thoughts have been pounding around in my head and it gets hard to think. It feels like I am trying to swim through blood everytime I try to sort out my emotions.

But here I am, in my bed, wearing the same clothes I did yesterday, my hair getting greasy now. I can feel the dirt on my face as I am lightly sweating. I look to the ceiling, starting to count the nonexistent stars. I close my eyes, open them again, close, open, close. When I open my eyes again nothing happens. Someone doesn't come to save me from myself. Someone doesn't come to pull me out of the fire. I just lay there burning myself slowly, because no one is there for me.

It's just another day when the sun comes up. It will always fall in the west. It's just another day, I tell myself as I shift positions in my bed. I can't bring myself to get up today so I stay. I stay laying in the bed that holds all of my bad memories. Memories of times I had cried myself to bed and had panic attacks when no one was there to help.

I will get up tomorrow, I tell myself and I know it's not true. I have lied to myself again. Another glass shard falls and shatters on the cold, wet pavement.

I hear a knock on my door and see the door crack open. I see Chris in the doorway, holding a plate of food in his hand. He is wearing a gray Freshlove hoodie and cargo pants. He looks at me in pity through his blue eyes, so easy to read.

"Hey," he says gently. "I thought you wanted some food," he says and walks over to the side of my bed, making me sit up. He puts the plate on my lap and gives me a fork. The plate is filled with golden chicken and some mashed potatoes.

"Thanks," I utter.

"Yeah...umm...how are you feeling?" He asks hesitantly, as he sits on the side of my bed.

"I don't know," I say honestly. I want to be mad but there is no one to be mad at other than myself. I want to be happy but I would have to try too hard to cover up my sad emotions. I want to be sad but then I will pity myself.

I pick up the fork and pierce it through the chicken. I bring it up to my face hesitantly and eventually put it in my mouth. I slowly chew the hearty chicken, my throat almost repulsing. I look at Chris, shoving the chicken down my throat. He looks like a lost puppy, unsure of what to do or how to help.

I push the plate onto my night side table after only taking a small bite. I don't feel like eating.

"Umm...what can I do to help?" He asks, looking me in the eyes. His direct eye contact makes me want to cry. His eye contact holds a deeper meaning, like he is trying to piece me together and understand what I am feeling. It makes me fold and tears well up in my eyes.