Tyler doesn't know why he can't write anymore. When he was younger, he always had something to write. His mind would wander places no one else's would, and he would write it down. It would escalate into a painting- a symphony of letters that even the most sharp minded couldn't comprehend. That was how it always was; a gift.
His brain would create chaos, a concept that was so extraordinary. His mind was an ocean, and his pen and paper was the ship and the sail. A world so full of color your eyes couldn't see it; yet, here he is, with writer's block. He throws his pen across the room in frustration, sighing through his nose.
"Why is nothing coming to me?" He asks the air as if it would give him an answer. He runs his fingers through his brunette hair, tugging at it with cold fingers. He flops down on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling like his life depended on it. He stares at the bumps, his mind wandering to other places. He bites his chapped lips, getting up to get ready for bed.
Once his head is resting on his pillow, softness engulfing his skin, his eyes shut. As soon as they do, his brain flashes on. He begins to fear the night, and the darkness surrounding him, his toes curling in anticipation to what he knows is coming.
The "figure" so to speak, visits him every night. It doesn't hold a face or even a form, it's just an anxiety- a darkness if you will. It swallows him like a pill, draining what little energy he had left. It bites and scratches at his skin, telling him bad, bad things. It squeezes his mind, suffocating it as it looks directly into Tyler's dark eyes, giving him nothing but fear.
He doesn't dream much anymore. When he does, it's nightmares, ones that could haunt a person for years to come. It makes him believe that he's the problem, that there's something wrong with him. The figure is always around, it's just easier for it to grab him and engulf him when his eyes are closed.
Tyler hasn't had a full night's sleep in a few weeks. His eyes always have dark grey crescents underneath them, holding on like their life depends on it. He's always distracted, and his grades are falling between his fingers like sand. Even his best subject; English.
He's always loved that class because he got good grades just for doing what he's good at: writing, reading poetry, analyzing stories. It was all a fun time for him, but eventually he got so distracted that even that class is a struggle to keep awake in. He knew it had gotten bad when his demons reached him through the one thing that kept them away.
The sun rises, but Tyler doesn't. He sleeps through his relentless alarm, despite its obnoxious ringing and nagging. It barely makes way into his mind, and he feels he needs a big speaker for it. He finally stretches his legs out from under the betraying comfort of his sheets, and gets up. He realizes that its 7:30, and runs to get ready, the blood rushing to his feet against the soft carpet.
His mom drives him to school, the radio of the car playing some dumb song that was written for the person singing it. He wonders why that's appealing to somebody, doing exactly what everyone wants you to do, being a mere voodoo doll for society. He tries not to think on it too much, knowing he won't be able to stop the never ending train of thought.
"Have a good day, sweetie." His mother's sweet voice says, bringing him a small amount of relief that something is still tangible.
"Love you." He says, shutting the car door. The cold November air bites as his nose as he drags his feet across the pavement, eventually making his way to the doors of the school. He takes a subtle deep breath, wishing he didn't have to face this. He exhales as he opens the silver doors, walking through the loud halls. He feels like every eye is on him, staring him down so hard he'll fall into pieces against the cold floor.
"Hey, Ty!" His friend Brendon walks towards him, slapping a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.
"Hey, Brendon." He says, immediately slapping on his mask. He doesn't want anyone to know. Last time someone found out something was even slightly wrong, he got sent to the counselor, and he was instantly put on medicine.
Medicine can't fix this.
"Did you do that Geometry homework? I sure didn't." He says with a laugh, his bright white teeth showing through bitten lips.
"Oh God, no." He says, dread filling his stomach as he laughs too. They stroll up to Tyler's locker, grabbing everything he needs and putting it in his backpack.
"So how are you and Sarah?" Tyler says, flashing a toothy grin and nudging his arm.
"Good, really good." Brendon laughs, wiggling his eyebrows for emphasis. Though he jokes about it, he really is head over hills in love with her. She is his everything.
"That's great." Tyler giggles, suddenly feeling a pang in his stomach. Something's missing, and he doesn't know what it is.
Tyler goes through the motions of every class, not really having motivation to care. He just does everything he's supposed to, not answering to anybody, and being particularly quiet. His regular face is too depressing and scary to look at, so on the way out of his house every morning, he practices a sincere smile, almost feeling robotic.
He walks in the door to music class, sitting down in his normal spot, everything seeming so black and white. The teacher steps outside for some time, and no one pays any mind as they are all occupied by their friends. Finally the teacher steps in.
"Class, we have a new student."
|-/
Okay so im super duper pumped to write this, also if you wanna be even more emo listen to the linked song
ive deleted all my stories and changed my name to start fresh so lets start with some joshler shall we? we shall
pls give me feedback and lemme know what you think :)
