Insanity

Bad Times

The water had a strange metallic taste, like laced with blood. He spits something into his hand, watching the sticky red fluid drip. Which slowly dripped onto his black dress pants. Yet, he takes another sip. This time it's a plain, clear, and slightly sweet taste. A wet spot appeared on his pants, and he wondered how it got there. He believes, he might self-destruct. One of these days he may explode. As he wanted to hurl over that cliff of existence, in which he's been tight roping on for so long. 

There is no medical reason for him wanting to die. Sometimes people can't exist in this semi mortal state. Sometimes they just need to die, he would be so lucky. It's not really wondering if he's gone insane, secretly he never doubted it. There are times when he sleeps, yet knows he is awake. Suddenly breathing, thinking, and yet can't move. It felt like his own mind has woven a cage for himself, made out of glass and silk. 

As it just won't break, no matter how thin it was. No matter how hard he pushes, it won't shatter. Heaven knows his mind has enough of it. At night he cries and slurs his speech. While his own sister notices him tripping over things with an inhuman sort of clumsiness. As if he never cared if things were there or not. In all secret hopes, he didn't see them. 

His mind believes he is drunk on sadness. No alcohol in his lavish apartment. While believing as if the water tasted like Vodka, it's not a viable substitute. The own alcohol he used to have would dull the throbbing in his chest. The bizarre pull of his mind to another realm. There is no way that these feelings can do that. 

(A/N: In this story, Seth may be sick or going through some kind of withdrawal. Who knows, cause I don't. But something is up, and no one can understand it.)