Day by day, he sat there, for hours it could be. Staring desperately at a screen. Searching for the words that were on the tip of his tongue. A flurry of emotion screeching to the seams of his chest. 

Was there anything he could do, right? Absolutely anything? No... there really wasn’t. That’s why no one stuck around. They hated him and all he stood for.

         The covers shuffled as he tried to slide out of bed, around him the air felt heavy with despair. Heavy and sticky and too much. It was as if he was weighing down the world. And everyone in it. No one actually wanted him. No one wanted to stay. They all kept dying. Was it his fault? - Was he the reason that she had died? Was he at fault for her dying? Of course, he was. It was all his fault.

 As per usual he hesitated at his door. The handle, creaking as he turned it to start his day. Why couldn’t he just stay in bed?

           The sudden firmness and coldness of the kitchen tiles shocking him awake, expired milk still holding its place in the fridge door from weeks ago.

           Beer bottles and cans from his uncle scattered throughout the living room, which was anything but.

          His desk, cluttered with papers and pens, cups of half drunken tea from days and even months ago still placed on paper leaving rings on his work.

He didn’t matter. Not enough to make them stay. They all just kept dying. Dropping off like flies. Not even trying to fight to stay. He fought, every day. Every day he would force himself to get up. Force himself to eat, to drink, to take his medication. Why couldn’t they at least try? The pen he held was being strangled by his hand. Illegible scribbles jotted down between the lines on paper. Tears dropped as if it were rain and the screams in his head grew with every passing second.

Maybe... Just maybe. Other people did try, but he just didn’t see it.  

People did wake up and did get up, he knew that for he saw plenty of people doing it every day. Living that was. But he felt as if he were the only one surviving. You know? The feeling of wanting to disappear. To be swallowed into the void. But to want to smell the flowers in May, to sing instead of cry in the rain, where the sun sets, and rises do not make you wish you never would rise from the putrid bed you lay in the night before.  

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Feelings shot through him like the adrenaline he felt when his headphones were plugged in. Plummeting him into a world of his own.  

He was always there. In his own world, she wondered what he thought about. He never smiled. Always in his own world, what happened to you? Why aren't you happy? ...How could I help? Each time I get close to him, he goes home. Class and school didn’t seem as important as what he had on his mind. Always with his headphones in, always with a deadpan look. Maybe if I was more direct?  

‘Hey, you-’ he looked up from the ground where he was seated. Up against one of the furthest corners of the school, ready to fly through the exit if he couldn’t take the pressure building in his head. Startled and confused he glanced up, emotions threatening to poor over.

He was sick of it. All these feelings he had. He was not worth them. Why was he feeling them when all these other people weren't?  

‘-Hey, over here’ He turned, life feeling heavy once again weighing down his shoulders. Her face flickered through his head each time he saw someone who could share any type of resemblance to her. She had loved him, hadn't she? And all he did was break her heart, make her hate life and give up. It wasn’t fair that he was stuck here. He loved her too. He just didn’t want to admit it. What a moron. 

He seemed pre-occupied, almost drowning in his thoughts. I should have let him be. I should not have approached him, what was I thinking? That he’d open up to me when it’s the first time that we’d talked. Anxiety filtered up to grasp a hand around my neck but froze; his eyes were so dark. Darker than the colour they held as he peered up at me. The pain rippled through me- what happened to him? 

‘Are you okay?’

Those words. Those were the ones that no one asked me. They all thought that I hated them, but it was me who I hated. Was I okay? Was I really, okay? No. I wasn’t. but I couldn’t tell them that. They didn’t know me. They didn’t care. No one did. There wasn’t any point in anyone caring.

 I’m worthless.

He jumped from where he sat, overwhelmed by the stone that had dropped in his gut and the tears pouring out of his band-aid bottle of emotions. The patch of daisies he sat in were squashed and parched, showing just how long he’d been sitting there. For quite a while it had seemed. The hard gravel skidded underneath his runners as he tried disparately to outrun his follower.

“Hey! - HEY WAIT UP! I want to help you! Please! Just slowdown.” But despite how fast I was running to keep up I knew. He wasn’t going to slow down. Not in the slightest.