POTS ~ The struggle of standing

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Juno's pov:

They talk some more, but that's all it ever is; talk. So he listened. And kept listening. It was the least he could do.

Juno woke up half an hour before his alarm. Getting out of bed felt like an Olympic sport. He did not qualify. He was not good enough to stay in the present, for not to talk about imagining the future.

Juno seemed stuck in the past. A past that kept playing another movie, with a separate soundtrack of himself telling his past self how, no matter what he did, the rain would never let up. Didn't matter how strong the umbrella. He would still be hit. Water would still flow.

He thought of Eliot. It seemed to be the only thing his mind would run ti as if late. You don't ask an addict why they're addicts. They just are.

He hoped they still had time. But let's be honest, what's the chance of that happening? What's the chance of Eliot and him keeping something alive that has already died?

Yeah... he was kidding himself. You can't get back the fish you have already let go, for the stream to take.

He often looked back on their shared past through rose tinted glasses. Juno laughed and watched Eliot spin in circles, arms extended and face to the sky. His brown hair flows lightly as he spins, his mouth open wide in a laugh like a kid trying to catch a raindrop, and his eyes are squinted shut against the sunny sky.

But that's not what happened, was it?

They were both just too lost souls, trying to find company in each other. It could have been anyone. Yet it was not. It was him. His. Eliot.

But that's not reality. That's just a made up fantasy, made by a messed up person; Juno, himself.

Juno finds himself slipping. Curled up, lying on his bedroom floor. When had he got out of the bed? Alone in the dark. At early morning, when all he should be seeing was the never ending universe filled with stars of hope. The human made pollution makes those glimmers of hope, fewer and faded. All that is left is the ever expanding universe, widening the space between the fading stars.

He should be happy he was alive. Alive in a time where you can still see the stars. Still see the hope when night falls.

Juno did not feel lucky. At least not right now. He knows that this feeling too would pass. Yet in the moment he wanted nothing more than for the polluted sky-blanket to suffocate him. To get it over with. To not have to think this way. To be normal. To be straight. To be good enough for his dad. To live a life of normalcy. To understand himself, and for others to understand him as well. But when the time came for Juno to understand himself, what then?

He should get up. His alarm had yet to go off, so did it really matter? The cold of the floor crept into him. He curled i to a foster position.

He was a child. At least he felt like one. When should he have had the time to discover who he was? His whole life had been about discovering the world; as a child, at school, at student council. When he was lucky enough to have friends, he got the opportunity to discover them and their relationship. Had he ever actually had time to discover himself?

It's suffocating to be surrounded by happiness, and not being able to feel it.

No! He needed to think differently. He sat up abruptly.

If he could make enough noise, then Juno would not have to be alone with his thoughts.

Okay! He curved himself up from the floor.

Juno knew what he needed to do. And he needed to do it soon. This had been going on for long enough.

'What was it even that made him so sad, now that he thought about it?

He needed to reflect on himself and his relationship with Eliot. But how would he do that? Juno couldn't even muster up a single sentence for Eliot to hear. He had convinced himself that saying nothing was better than saying anything, for the fear of saying the wrong thing or not getting the right message across.

He got up. Changed his clothes. Got ready an went to school. On his walk Juno be gang to wonder how to best get his message across to Eliot. For not to talk about how he would get his attention or simply look at him. That was not yet. He could put that off for now.

"I miss you." No, I can't say that. "It's an addiction. But when you're here, I feel uncertain. And I screw it up. And you walk away."

Was that it? No. But was it true...? Maybe a bit too much.

He want to be something. To achieve something. To help other. And to be cherished. Juno knew Eliot got held back in life because of his illness. Because of others and their prejudices and non-existent experiences. But the goddess thought, that the one holding him back, was none other than himself.

And that made it harder, because then Juno couldn't blame any outside forces for what he was lacking and for his shortcomings. For Juno's laziness and his brain. He knew he shouldn't listen to it sometimes. It was lying. And Juno knew it. It's something Eliot told him once as a fun fact. He loved his enthusiasm. He loved him.

But when you're constantly livng in the presence of someone else, you begin to believe what they say. Because no one is saying anything against them.

Juno is a completely sane and rational. And he is right. Everyone legitimately does hate him. He's irrational. Though he thinks he's loyal to a default, he's actually not, and people can't trust him. Not with anything... or everything.

The walk to school seemed endless. Yet suddenly, Juno was there.

The best part about starving is that you can get used to it. That also happens to be the worst part, but whatever.

(Happy 2026 raindrops!
I know I should progress the story, but I kind of like just making Juno suffer. Has it been too much?
Watch me disappear for months at a time, again ;) have a good day, Raindrops.)