willbursoot angst

chapp 6

MAJOR TW/ manipulation/ ed/ self destructive habits/ flashbacks/ anxiet attack/ panic attack/ intrusive(?) Thoughts/ smoking/ addiction/ SH/ TW

  Wilbur sighed quietly, he was now back at the house. They had been shopping for hours earlier and in all he was exhausted. More mentally then physically, but he also hadn't been messaged again, so that was good in his opinion... Or, maybe bad.. He didn't much know. He sorta just, didn't.  Just didn't.

    He was laying on his bed and just thinking, simply thinking. He wasn't in a good head space and he thought quicker then his thoughts could process. His eyes burned and his throat itched, he heard wind and saw dark, it was night, not late but maybe nine or so?-(100% wrong) He didn't know? He doesn't know. He doesn't care. Or he might? He might. He should.
     Pain- his neck hurts, his cheek was clawed at- ow ow ow- his hair now. Pain all over? No, just wear he could reach- cold. Calm. Cold. Fuck no breeze now- ow, why did he do that? Why did i do that? Ow.

    He stood up from his bed and put a hand in his pocket before retracting what his fingers had searched for.

    God im stupid, bloody stupid, a fucking idiot, you really need to rely on something to think? Or in a litteral form to not? Not think? Pff, pathetic. Thats what i am, pathetic, its true, i cant eat a whole meal, i cant trust. Why cant i trust? Trusting is bad. Yeah, trust, trusting, trust, not trusting, who cares? Not me. Maybe me. Whatever.

    Wilbur walked over to his window, swinging one leg out, then the other, sitting on the window sill and looking out, not at anything specific.

    Focus! Are you really gonna do this right now? Yeah, probably. Why not? Uhg, i take up so much damn space, just a waste of space, at least if i died i wouldn't be wasting oxygen anymore. Maybe if i hold my breath ill just die. Or maybe if you just inhale something that isnt oxygen, itll speed up the process. Yes, yes, process of death, i can do that.

    He drew his hand from his pocket then brought the nicotine pen to his lips, slowly pressing down on the button.

  don't don't DO IT youve come so far IT HELPS it doesn't help DIE DIE DIE DIE it won't kill you YOU DIE FASTER smoking wont help you IT DOES IT HELPS IT HELPS IT HELPS it'll help you IT HELPS IT HELPS IT HELPS what scared DONT WORRY IT HELPS-

     he drew in a large breath then incased the smoke in his lungs making his thoughts go silent.

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    He slowly let out the smoke, watching it all go into the wind, which he listened to, watching leaves move on a tree outside, simply staying still.

  His thoughts were silent now.

  It helped.

   A smile was on his lips until it slowly turned to a frown. He'd broken his streak, he was clean. He was clean for over a god damn week until now, almost two.

   You broke it. Idiot, why did you smoke? Why? Why! You couldn't handle your own thoughts? You couldnt handle, the truth?

  A tear slowly left a track down his cheeck of which he had been scratching at before, making it sting imensly.