SEA, SWALLOW ME.

[3] SELF IMPROVEMENT.

Tw: Blood, sh, mental illness, medication.

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3:14 AM, Dazai's Apartment.

Dazai lay in his futon for a long period, he knew he couldn't go back to sleep. He knew he had run out of his sleeping medication. Shit. Dazai folded down the blanket forcefully and crawled sluggishly out of his bed.

He grabbed some clothing and dragged himself towards his bathroom down the hall. It was very dark, almost as if he was seeing things. When he reached the bathroom door he opened it and stumbled inside. Dazai closed the door and blinded himself with the newly flickering lights. He reached towards the shower handle and turned the knob, making sure the water was hot enough. Dazai stripped and made eye contact with himself in the steamed mirror. Slowly he began to remove his bandages, Dazai'd need to put some more on later.

He sighed, miserably. The air became humid with running water hitting the shower floor. Dazai climbed inside the shower and closed the curtains. He hated standing in the shower, he thought it was too much energy so he'd usually sit down. Dazai stared at the scars that lined his milky pale skin. His wrists were lined with red and purple rough patches. A reminder of everything he hated about himself. His thoughts began to spiral.

Dazai looked around the half-tub-half-shower to see painted blood stains, memories that served only horrible purposes to him. The bathroom he was lying in right now was filled with trauma, breakdowns, and tears. The one thing Dazai hated was tears. He hated crying.

"Fuck—" he sobbed. Tears were coming uncontrollably as he began to slowly break down, mixing with the shower water running down his face. The loud noise of water violently pounding his head was blocking him from hearing his sorrowful cries. He was pitiful. He never understood this feeling though. It was too human for him.

He was weak and vulnerable. Echos of howling cries filled the bathroom, bouncing off the walls. Dazai was the lowest of lows, nothing a human ever even dreamed of becoming. Deities looked down on him in disgust at what they had created, knowing it was now inhumane. A monster.

His breathing becomes rough; unstable. Hyperventilating sighs filled the shower. Dazai lunged to his knees. His breathing became lighter, and he could feel his body starting to calm down and going limp. A long, stretched-out sigh left his lips.

Dazai began standing, ever so slowly. He reached for the body wash and pumped soap onto a loofah.

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He now sat in his bed, scrolling through his phone whilst petting Beelzebub. Scrolling Twitter wasn't healthy, but it was entertaining to see people fight over stupid shit. Dazai's thumb swiped up his screen, and his tongue began to long for the sweet taste of liquor. It was already nightfall, it seemed to have passed so easily from being on the internet all day.

Atsushi had called him earlier, wondering if Dazai wanted to do something with him and their other co-workers. He responded by telling Atsushi that he felt sick so he couldn't. (It wasn't a lie, his head ached horribly from his hangover.)

"I need a drink," Dazai sighed into his breath, before slowly climbing out of the futon. He slid on his clothing, a white button-up, black sweatshirt, beige-off-white pants, and his normal work-shoe loafers. He picked up his fluffy void of a cat.

"I'm going to be leaving now, OK? The scheduled feeder came today, so I'll give you wet food when I get home," he'd sigh, "please don't destroy my furniture while I'm gone."

Beelzebub seemed to meow in response, but it was her telling Dazai to put her back on the ground. He chuckled, planted a kiss on her nose, and lowered her to the ground where she seemed quite happy.