Unknown |not cont.|

i dont like letting people in. stop trying to get to me.

The sinking in his chest was constant.

It was like he was disappointed, and sad, and every depressing feeling, all combined into a tight ball that was crushed inside of him. Aleks really hated it.

He was suppressing the feeling, pushing it down and down and making it more dense and tighter and just trying to ignore it so it would go away. That's why he didn't go into the office, because he felt like his world was collapsing and he didn't want anyone to know. Holding it in was helping it build up, and Aleks didn't know if he could hold it in much longer.

He wanted to scream it out. Scream and just get whatever this was out of him. Over the week, he had realized a lot. One, he was insane. He was crazy and it was all inside his head, and it wouldn't get out, no matter how hard he tried. Two, he would never be cured. As time went on, the chance of getting rid of the horrible emotions was less and less. By now, it was too late.

Third, he was in love with his best friend and he didn't mean for it to happen. The love just came out of nowhere, and soon joined the ball of suppressed feelings that was pooling in his stomach and preventing him from eating and making him sick.

Once he was off the phone, he was crying. It wasn't quiet, it was loud. Everything was pouring out and he grabbed his pillow and screamed. It wasn't enough, and he yelled and screamed until his throat was raw and it itched on the inside. So he started scratching.

He scratched at his throat with stubby nails, and before he knew it, his entire body was itching and Aleks knew why he scratched himself at night. It felt so good to make his skin red and puffy and to feel his dry flesh beneath his fingertips, he wished he could feel it forever.

So there Aleks was, on his bed, silent as his fingernails left marks on his skin. He was sobbing with his head resting on the wet pillow as he just let it all go.

He wished he could say he felt better.

But with clawed flesh on his arms, red skin on his neck, he felt worse. Worse because no matter what he did, there was always the sense, that depression lurking around him, never to go away. It was really hard to explain the feeling of wanting to claw your own insides out from your body, take everything out and just be numb and there but not there. He wanted to die, but he was scared of death. He wanted to stay alive, but he was scared to live another day.

Aleks wanted so many things and he just couldn't decide what was good for him. He was better off dead.

|||

James couldn't explain the way his chest caved in. It was a feeling so raw and true and deathly that it knocked the oxygen out of his lungs and made him gasp as he stood up.

He needed to get to Aleks.

Good friends help each other. Best friends save each other. That's how it was.

So as James drove to Aleks' house, no doubt ignoring speed limits and other restrictions, he couldn't help but think of what caused his Aleks to be so distant. He was getting better, he had been acting happy and everything that came with a smile. Something was wrong, more wrong than it usually was, and James was going to find out.

Aleks had once explained his pain as something that no physical harm could compare to, something that made him prefer death rather than live through it.

"Imagine your back, the worst it's ever been, with pain pulsing through you and bringing tears to your eyes as you just lay there, taking it because there is nothing you can do. Now imagine that pain in your chest, and you stomach, and it's just pulling you down and you're struggling to stand back up but no matter what you think about, how many pills you take, it just sits there, slowly crushing you. James, that is what I feel."

James shook his head, pulling into the driveway. He was determined.

He would fix Aleks.
~~~~~
Sun you're drunk, go home