he buzzing of his phone alarm rang out in the silence as he stared out the window. Having already been awake for an hour it only served to startle him, and give him the same feeling of tension that accompanied every morning. The day had to start.

“Time to hit it.” he said to no one.

He rolled out of bed and looked around the familiar room he had lived in for most of his life. Posters from younger days lined the walls, photos with friends he didn't see anymore. He took a long drink from the water on his bedside table, and stood to ready himself for the day.

A light snack and a quick brushing of his teeth was all that preceded his exit, gym bag in hand. Another busy day he thought, The gym, the classes, and the job. The latter two he certainly hated, but at least he had the next two hours to enjoy.

He arrived to the sight of familiar faces heading through the doors, people in gis with belts of varying color tied around their waists. As he walked through and headed back to change, he nodded to one of his coaches manning the front desk.

“You ready to get punched in the face Darren?” he heard a familiar voice call out.

Darren turned and saw his friend Maurice “I'm always ready, don't you know that?” Darren remarked, rubbing his eyes and moving slowly “Even if I don't always look like it.”

Hands wrapped and gloves on, they stepped onto the mat with a small bow. They touched gloves and it was on. Ducking and feinting and swinging, stopping for brief moments when one caught the other with a heavy hand or a well placed kick.

These were the few moments Darren actually felt alive, he'd been training for a few years now and it just never got old. The time passed too quickly and in what felt like moments Maurice had to leave and Darren joined the grapplers, practicing their chokes and throws. His belt was blue with a stripe on it, meaning he knew enough to be dangerous, but not enough to keep from being thrashed by the purples and browns in the class. His favorite professor, a black belt who had been practicing for almost two decades, watched and instructed as everyone changed partners and began again.

Sweat poured down Darren's face and he felt like he was going to throw up from all the effort.

“When you're tired is when you have to rely on your technique most.” he heard the black belt say as he walked past Darren.

“Easier said than done when you have 200 pounds sitting on top of you.” Darren called from under his training partner, getting a laugh from his instructor.

Just like that it was over. The first, and best, two hours of his day were gone and he had to resign himself to the slow death that was the rest. The same day he always had. He went home to shower, went to class at the community college he begrudgingly attended so he didn't have to admit his aimlessness. Then to the giant bulk-buy store he worked in to afford the gym and help his parents pay for school. While he hated those parts of the day at least they went quickly, all running together in his mind. Then, finally, home to see his parents for a bit before resigning to his room, tired from hiding the futility he felt through it all.

“Sometimes it just doesn't seem worth it.” he said to his dog, curled up on his bed. It raised its head and regarded him for a moment before laying it back down and letting out a comfortable sigh. “Yeah, what do you know,” he said as he leaned back. He checked his phone and scrolled through some jiu jitsu sites and news stories to drown out his thoughts.

His mom peeked her head in through his door “Dinner's ready if you want some?” she asked it delicately. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew something was eating at her son. Over the last few years he seemed to sink deeper inside himself and she couldn't figure out how to help. Worrying is just what mothers do, she thought to herself and waited for his answer.

“Yeah, I'll be out in a bit.” Darren said without looking up.

He could feel her gaze on him, her exit slightly delayed. He knew she worried, his dad too, even though he didn't show it. He didn't know what he could say though, the older he got the more pointless it all felt. The jobs he saw other people work, the lives they lived, he just wanted no part of it. Feeling like another cookie cutter piece of a society that didn't care about anyone. Talking wasn't going to change what the world was, so he would just exist and do his best to stop the worrying.

No reason me being uncomfortable should make them uncomfortable.

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He got up and forced himself downstairs. He sat down at the small table in the dimly lit dining room. Helped himself to food and took a moment to enjoy the smell of his mother's cooking. He made small talk about training and work and tried to seem casual. He mentioned something one of his teachers said during a lecture and flinched slightly at bringing up college.

“Speaking of school, have you settled on a major yet?” his dad asked nonchalantly, but watched Darren carefully as he said it.

Darren's hand stopped for just a moment as he was bringing his fork to his mouth. He took the bite to buy himself a moment. Shouldn't have brought it up, stupid.

“I'm uh, still not sure. I'm enjoying the psychology classes though, cool to see how the inside of a person's mind works.” was all Darren could offer.

His father looked back down at his plate “You know you're already a semester and a half in, you'll need to pick something soon, you're almost done with your basics.”

“Yeah, I know. I'll talk to my advisor tomorrow.” the same answer he had given before, hoping it would be enough to move past the topic.

His parents exchanged a glance that wasn't lost on him.

Here it comes

“Look, you've said that plenty of times and nothing comes of it. You know even the community college is hard for us to afford and we can't have you wasting time.” his father said a bit more sternly. “If you don't pick something at some point you'll just burn out on it and end up doing nothing and wasting all this money we've spent.” His dad tried to be calm in a conflict, but often lost his temper whenever one came up. His mother just looked at him nervously, hoping it wouldn't turn into another full blown argument.

“I know, I'm sorry, I'll figure it out before this semester is over. I gotta get up early tomorrow though, I think I'm gonna go pass out.” Darren stood from the table and took his plate to the sink. His parents watched him wordlessly, not wanting to pressure but wanting him to do more. Darren felt their stare as he walked out of the room.

They watched him as he dragged his feet, walking back through the short hallway past family pictures full of smiles. He disappeared through the doorway and shut it quietly behind him.

“I'm worried about him.” his mother said in a hushed voice.

“Well we can't afford therapy on top of school.” his father said, throwing his hands up. “We've tried talking to him before and it just doesn't get through to him. I don't know what his problem is, what else could he need. He's got school, he's got his boxing and all that. If he has problems we can't do anything unless he's willing to talk about it and we both know he won't do that.” His father's youth hadn't been easy, all he could ever focus on was work and providing more than his own family had. To him it should be enough.

His mother's brow furrowed and her eyes got a sheen from tears welling up. “He just seems less and less like himself. I don't like seeing it and not being able to do anything.” she said, her voice shaky.

Darren shut the door behind him and could hear his parents speaking in hushed tones but couldn't make out the words. He didn't want to, to be honest. He'd heard it all before and talking never solved anything then, so what good would it do now? He was just glad he got away without it turning into another fight. He knew they were good parents, that they cared. Being around them still made him feel more isolated, the fact that they couldn't understand made him feel even worse, like he was crazy for feeling like he did. He just wanted to feel nothing and forget about it all.

He sat down on his bed and opened the drawer of his bedside table. He pulled out a small pipe with a bit of green still in the bowl from the night before. He took a hit, breathed in deeply and felt a little less bad. Felt a little less everything. He hated thinking about the future and it seemed like it's all they ever thought about.

Earth sucks, and living here sucks.

He was hit with guilt, knowing other people had lives much worse than his. But knowing a thing didn't always change how you felt about it, and knowing that thing made him feel melodramatic and stupid. Yet, the sinking in his chest was still there, always there.

Darren looked at his school bag sitting on his desk, knowing there were things he should study or projects he should make headway on. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. He reached for a book off the shelf on his headboard, as he did he saw the large hunting knife he'd gotten on his 18th birthday.

A quick ticket out

He chuckled at the macabre thought, he pushed it away reflexively as he had with similar thoughts over the last few years. Dwelling on it too long always went somewhere much worse, and he'd already been over all that in his head. Stared at a gun for hours thinking about running away from nothing but existence itself. Like there was something in him that made the good, the bad, and everything between just unbearable. Even though he couldn't describe why, the urge could get so strong, through high school and after; but he could never do anything so final, not with what it would do to his mom. But sometimes hanging on for others made things even worse, like he was a hostage in his own reality. He took another hit, trying to counter the thoughts and the second wind he felt coming on. He never slept well or for very long, and the bud always helped to some small degree.

Darren shook his head and picked a book, one of his favorites. A sci-fi piece with a world both better and worse than his own, but with characters that had purpose, had vision and goals that mattered. They had things he didn't have and living through them, however briefly, kept the feelings at bay. At least for a while.

He took another deep hit and jumped in the middle, to some of his favorite parts. He lost himself in the book, until finally he started nodding off and realized he should put the pipe and the book down before he got ash on it. He laid back, barely conscious and thought about tomorrow and who he might see at the gym, how it would be the same day he always had. What they might train on, and running through what he had learned today. He drifted off as the thoughts became dreams until he was out.