sʜᴏʀᴛ sᴛᴏʀɪᴇs [eng]

» sick & empty.

he sat there, music playing from his phone.
he had been sitting there for quite a while now; in fact, it has been all day.
the music was playing since the moment he woke up.
he was texting with some people throughout the day, but when midnight hit he received less and less texts.
but he was waiting for a specific person to text him, yet that text never came.
not even until 3:32AM. no reply.

he sat there, considering sneaking out to get a pack of cigarettes from the vendor down his village's street. it would take maybe 10min to get there, but since he never got cigs from that thing, he'd maybe struggle. maybe that thing didn't even have lucky strikes usa blue? probably not.

he sighed, he smoked before but never bought cigarettes; he only tried the cigarettes from his friends so if he wanted a smoke he just asked.

he was exhausted.
his weekend was ruined, he felt unmotivated and lost, kind of numb. and all the school work that was piling up didn't help.
the things his mom said and the "encouraging words" from teachers and friends just worsened that.

he couldn't continue this shit.
he felt so lost and misunderstood.

there was nothing that could help him.

the urge to cut was rising up again.

he was close to a breakdown, yet he couldn't cry. there were no tears, only the sadness his pounding heart felt.

there were so many times he wished he was just dead.

he couldn't get out of bed, study or hang out with people.

he hated himself, he hated himself so much that his hate turned into anger, all the time.

everything was getting too much, he was losing his head.

he slept through his alarms, trying to avoid going to school but his mom always woke him up, no matter if he was going to be late or not.

and nobody cared.
everyone knew and nobody cared.

not even his parents could understand.
he had to be perfect and exceptional good at everything and all the time.

he wanted to snap so many times.

all he needed was to beat someone to death.

he regretted everything.

fuck doctors, teachers and all adults.
all he wanted was to be free.
running away and avoiding responsibilities and problems, that was all he was able to do.

he couldn't face shit, neither his friends, neither his past or present, nothing.

all he wanted was to vanish.

it wasn't the first time he felt like this,

"it's just another depressive episode."

is what he thought, over and over again when this happened, "it'll end soon."

but end in what? loneliness and another scar on his body that he couldn't hide? it was summer soon. his parents would see. his siblings. his classmates. someone would tell the teacher. someone would contact someone. he could end up somewhere horrifying.

not like his parents already were terrifying, if they got to know he'd be kicked out for sure.

but fuck, how long does it take for him to break completely? it's been more than 10 years since he kept going, no matter what happened.

the trauma of his probably has been weighing tons and god, it only kept adding up the longer he stayed.

he wanted to leave school, leave that home and leave everything and everyone. be alone. for a long time.

healing takes time.
and after 10 years of trauma,
a healing of 20 years will be required if he wouldn't get help from a therapist.

he wanted all of this to end.

he doesn't want to care about a job, money or a home, he just wanted to be free.

and god,
how much a cigarette would help right now.

"i'll buy new ones on monday."