Fractured Articles

Ｙｏｕｒ Ｎｅｗ Ｂｏｙｆｒｉｅｎｄ：

[UNEDITED]

lament

/ləˈmɛnt/

noun

a passionate expression of grief or sorrow.

~~~

WILBUR SAT ON the edge of his bed, nearly motionless aside from the rapid and inconsistent rising and falling of his chest. He'd moved once or twice within the past two hours, once to go to the bathroom and hunch over the side of the toilet, trying to empty whatever was in his stomach into the bowl and flush it down, the second time he moved to get up, wash his hands, then sit where he was now. 
To sum up what had happened to cause these events, Wilbur had broken up with his girlfriend of six months or, more accurately, she had broken up with Wil after having allegedly met the absolute love of her life, the dickwad that would help her out of this fairytale, and his name was Jared. Who the fuck names their child Jared? What kind of name was it, anyways?

The name of a fucking woman-stealer.

The brunette's ex had told him that Jared was perfect. Deep, dark brown hair that framed his face in a shockingly well-fitting e-boy aesthetic fashion, decent muscles, bloody brilliant jaw-line, and a fashion sense that made him look like a grunge Pinterest boy. At least, that's what Wilbur had figured from the very limited amount of photos that were shoved in his face before she left. 
No matter what he told himself, no matter how much he tried to stop thinking about the photos of that dashingly handsome guy,  he couldn't. Wilbur couldn't stop comparing himself his now blatantly obvious flaws to Jared's countless and unfathomably large amount of perfections. 

Compared to Jared, Wilbur was tall, but in a hellish way. He looked like a fairly humanoid giant, more or less like Rubeus Hagrid from Harry Potter, maybe even SCP-096, since he was both tall and lanky. Compared to Jared, Wilbur was fat. He looked it anyways, hence why he threw up his £90 steak dinner that was served with a side of roast potatoes, then garnished with a rosemary and black garlic compound butter. Jared probably wouldn't have thrown up a dish as expensive as that, he probably wouldn't have thrown up in the first place. Compared to Jared, Wilbur was a waste of time, money and was an empathy magnet. 
Jared probably had parents that still spoke to him, that didn't basically disown him. Jared probably wasn't called a faggot because of his jokingly flirtatious comments and remarks he made to and about his friends, or the jokes he made when drunk, or jokingly saying that he thought he was in love with Schlatt that one time when the man was telling jokes without a punchline that one time on the SMPLive talent show. Jared probably had friends thanks to his outright popularity and fantastic personality , unlike Wilbur, who probably had friends out of pity and them being able to easily walk over him due to him being an absolute push-over.

Jared probably wasn't fucking harassed and bullied and tormented by his workplace peers whenever he tried to give his input on a heated topic or whenever he just tried to join a simple god damned conversation and, as a result, probably didn't go home every night and essentially cry himself to sleep whilst debating whether he should kill himself or not. Jared probably didn't have clinically diagnosed Major Depressive Disorder, or Generalised Anxiety Disorder, or a bloody panic disorder of some sort, and Wilbur bet his entire life that Jared was happy as anybody in the world could fucking be. Jared probably didn't wish he was living in America for the sole reason that he'd actually be able to get a semi-automatic firearm and shoot up the workplace he was stuck in for an outrageously long eight hours nearly every bloody weekday without a choice because if he stopped working then he wouldn't be able to afford to stream on his limited and very few days off. 

To put it simply, Jared had everything that Wilbur didn't.

Jared was everything that Wilbur wasn't. 

Jared was everything Wilbur wanted to be. 

Jared was perfect.