Friend, Tell Me Everything

19

I'll call this fella S. And his girlfriend A.

S was not in love with A. A was in love with S.

And yet he wanted to be with her. All the time.

It was because he had no one else. And he'd mistaken it for love instead. Frankly, he was jealous of her, and how she could feel so happy being in a relationship with a hapless kid in a man's body. Being around her made her happy, and he'd feed off that energy to live.

I don't remember the last time we met, but when we did meet, S always had a lot to say. And I listened to every word, as S uncharacteristically rambled on and on without pause.

He told me sometimes he'd wish he had dementia.

Well, then he'd die, but I assure you, he's not suicidal (yet), so let me rephrase that again.

He wished he could feel what it's like to have dementia, and then slowly regain all of his memory, as if it were a miracle. That way, he would have the chance to rediscover the little things that used to make him happy.

And in the dazed and fogged state that his brain had to have been in the later stages of dementia, all his worries and anxiety would melt away in a puddle of bliss.

Sometimes, he'd wish humans were hunter-gatherers again. A time when they wouldn't even have the time to be sad and anxious, and all they had to do was hunt and eat to survive. And fuck like rabbits. And while hunting is no easy task, it was, without a doubt, something to look forward to every day. That, and fucking.

Actually, S had not always been so miserable.

He was a high achiever in all 12 years of school. Eventually, he came to the predicament that it was a waste of time, cramming all that knowledge into his head, a false sense of achievement that became his comfort.

During high school, he could've opened himself up to others but chose not to. He was a cursed forgery of a person he had thought others would have liked to see. S was a closeted pervert, and he never let anyone know (for obvious reasons). But that just made him less approachable, and he seemed less relatable, and he felt as if he was missing out on the actual fun of being stupid, moronic and gratuitously horny.

All those pent-up emotions remained dormant, and the flower never bloomed. Then university came, and S realised he was a bulb amongst vibrant, blooming flora. Everyone lived recklessly and passionately, or so it seemed to him. S knew deep down that most of the girls, and all of the boys had a repressed perverted monkey inside of their heads. His blood boiled, knowing how fake everyone was, but more so knowing deep down that he was the worst human he knew.

S' eyes were like the prisoners within the confines of his eye sockets, pried open solely for his twisted, perverse pleasure and delight.

In an alternate universe, he'd wait til his 20th birthday. And then he'd start tearing everything around him apart, down to the last atomic component. He'd make everybody in his social circle turn feral and expose who they really are to others, at the expense of his own dignity. S would be the firestarter to a burning world, where sex between college mates would happen just as often as they do in those HBO Max shows.

He would then break up with A, so she wouldn't be burdened, and fuck everyone.

S would confess all of this to me on the day of our meeting, and I didn't really know how to feel. He did not stutter. Nevertheless, as his only friend, I could not bring myself to interrupt his unhinged "heart-out" session. I used to respect S. And though not as much as before, I trusted that he wouldn't lash out and ruin his life.

Under a smoky grey sky, we parted ways, and I was ready to return to normalcy. As for S, I could not read his soul, but I planted a thought inside his head that we'd look out for each other no matter the distance, and I hoped he'd take it upon himself to honour our friendship.

.

.

I wouldn't see S again for another 2 years. It was unplanned, unexpected, in the most unlikely circumstance...

<>--------| End of Part 1 |---------<>

Author's Note: Definitely not related to any real-world things but I let my imagination run wild in the literal sense. I might update this story whenever, so stay tuned! I read a plethora of Japanese psychological manga titles in recent months, and you should check it out too, if you are disturbed/impressed by what I wrote. Not my most impressive work at all, but more like a violent current forcing water through every crevice it could find.

P.S. You're allowed to rush me too. But I write better when I'm depressed. Fr.