bulletproof in black like a funeral

prologue

"I don't know" Tyler whispered to himself as he shut his locker door.

"Did you say something Tyler?" His friend Alex asked.

"Oh, no" Tyler replied quietly. He turned from his locker and walked with Alex down the hallway to poetry class. Most students took the class as a blow off but Tyler (unknowing to his friends), took the class because he actually liked writing.

"Class, pull out your poetry notebooks please" Tyler's teacher asked the class. Tyler reached into his bag and pulled out a black leather book and opened it to one of the last couple of pages. Tyler really liked pouring out his emotions onto the pages. He even wrote when their teacher didn't ask him to. So that is why his book was almost full.

"Tyler, what'd you write about? I wrote mine about basketball" Alex whispered. Tyler shifted uncomfortably in his seat for a moment. He looked down at the thick paper in front of him. Their teacher asked them to write about something that inspired him, he wrote about death.

"Me too" He lied.

He'll find out you're lying  blurry whispered, and then he won't want to be your friend anymore

Tyler shivered and begged for blurry to stop stop stop. But he knew blurry wouldn't, because he never did. He never stopped.

When Tyler got home late that night, after basketball practice was finished, he collapsed in his bed. He was exhausted but couldn't sleep. Blurry was nagging him.

And he felt numb around the edges, not in a way where he felt nothing, but in a way where he felt nothing but sadness. Tyler sat up in his bed and adjusted to the darkness of the black winter night. All of the sudden a tear slipped from his eye. He hated crying, but he did it so often.

Tyler eventually convinced himself to get up and shower and eventually coaxed himself to sleep.