After pain // Bakugou Katsuki

Week One

It's been three years in lockdown, in and out between but with a new variant the country formed a new lockdown. The same principles. The same precautions. You can say that everything is blurring into the same sick dream. The remains of my mind left after the first two, when we were at school to be wrenched away back to alienation.

Alien... defined as unfamiliar and disturbing or distasteful.

How about all three?

It's been at least a few months since the third lockdown and the memory of how it began continously fades away from me, unreachable and unaccounted.

Sunken eyelids as I woke up to the next day. The dream I had, leaving me in that faze of mind, a sense of bliss. The gap between consciousness keeping me light before thrown against the brick wall with life. The loneliness is back and relentless, eating my skin away with only bones to remain. I can't lay around and wait for that sympathy, or the even worse subcategory; pity. Those viewing me with guilt or remorse is something I'd avoid at all costs, it isn't genuine or comfortable. I never like bothering people so I won't with this. I really can't.

With forcing my limbs to move, I throw water on my face and stare back at the toothbrush, it's brushes having their better days. I avert my eyes to the mirror and stare at the skull facing me. I feel as if my throat is being chocked, the back of it with deep wounds. Wincing, I step back and walk away from the scene. It's hygienic to brush my teeth but I can't bring myself to care right now, it's quite fatalistic and futile. Peddling on a chained bike.

As it's Monday I open the chromebook and watch the circles dancing on the screen, then I log on, swiping my fingers against each keyboard. Somehow, I haven't missed a day and my grades are acceptable. Maybe I'm stubborn or haven't got to that point of giving up, when it's completely hopeless. The first lesson of today is something. I scroll onto the join button and turn my camera and mic off (obviously) before joining and hearing a hello from the teacher. A few others join after me and something happens for about an hour.

I scroll to the next class, someone. I join it and hear a hello from the teacher. A few others join and someone happened for an hour.

The next class, sometime. At sometime, I heard a hello and it was there for an hour.

It happened for another hour.

Another hour.

I slam the chromebook shut and stand up, groaning as I stretch my back. My posture is crap but who cares? I don't. I walk downstairs and dinner is left on the table, a note to place it in the microwave. I take the sticky note from the counter and scan it.

"Will be back in a few days, another business trip. Put this in the microwave and order takeout or cook what we have.

Mum and dad x"

I sighed softly but it echoed behind me. Eating is a chore but the headache compels me as I place it in the microwave. It dings and I grab the meat and rice, sitting on the bar stool to shove a forkful and chew. It's hard to taste anything, but I continued to shove each fork down and swallow. Soon the plate was empty which I took as eating enough and I dropped it in the sink.

Now what to do? What to ever do?

Hobbies, tried them but it fizzled out after a bit. I won't tell others but I was shit at a few and the rest were plain and boring for me. I'm left without any motivation to dive into a new hobby's ocean.
Exercising, I kept a nice track of it because of the school's requirements and my enjoyment of it but... well... I got away without needing to provide evidence of it anymore and it became easy to lay on the couch and contemplate things.
Speaking of, I could contemplate more but I'm beginning to run out of questions or memories to degrade myself over. I've been there and done it before and it doesn't have the same effects the next time.
I guess there's only one thing left to do, what I'll always return to after my drives on Mars or Uranus. I tap on the discord app and sit down, waiting.

I'm brought with a few pings and nothing else, general announcements and giveaways. If I'm honest, the giveaways are never worth it. Always some niche thing, to provide the generosity of keeping members engaged. I could be wrong, I tend to see the cons of everything now. A few of my friends were online, the self-titled "Bakusquad". If it wasn't obvious, the title came from my name, when socialisation was in person. We used the app from back then and still do now, but more often as a way to keep the knot of our friendships tied. Pinky and Pikachu are chronically online, blazing banners with bios and statuses of glitter, often quoting inside jokes. I used to read them regularly and smirk from the understanding but today's one is foreign to me. I can only assume it's a joke between them.

One of them is "okokokok" and the other is "lalalala". Is text spamming a trend or what? Not that it would be surprising, the Internet is an obscure place. Weird as fuck.

We have a server for us, channels with each of our nicknames. We would post in them daily, videos and updates of the mundane as the new normal. Eating a burnt egg? Take a photo. Sitting with your sister? Take a photo. A bird shits on your window? Take a photo.

The last message was three days ago when Pikachu sent a scam link to encourage us to join this site for free jeans. They are morons but no one joined it.

Perhaps personal messages, one on one is the new way for us. I had my fair share of private conversations with them: the majority consisted of them spamming pictures to get a reaction. Some sense of acknowledgement. I believed it was given, middle finger emojis and plain insults. My typical behaviour and they ate it up as such. As the sisterly months to this one passed, the messages changed from spamming to "hi" and "heyyyyy"s. I even began some with asking how they were, and after two hours they gave a one word answer. If they were generous, I'd get an explanation of what they did five minutes ago. It confused me, taking into account that they were online since I first sent the message. Then it became anger, resentment. Those sorts and synonyms. I didn't expect to feel more alone but I'm guessing it was that, as what else could it be?

I wasn't receiving as much talks as before, despite it initially pissing me off, and add the sensation of reaching for something you can't have, they come together to become titled as loneliness. That's also why I pushed myself to message them, or the feeling did. Something did.

Something more, something less.

I reflected on it one night, and my mind let me on the rugged path to where I hated the experiences I had. I hated that they messaged me so often. I hated the care recieved. I hated that I was more social. I wish I never knew better, then I wouldn't have this pain. It's as if knowing I had it before hurts more than the gratitude of having the moment. To have something to lose, hurts more than having nothing to begin with.

By now the room was pitch black, the ceiling holding the scarce light as rays of my phone reflected. My head began to ache which told me it was time to end the day and after trailing across the stairs, lurking outside the bathroom, and collapsing onto the bed, the day had ended.

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