Drowning in you

•thirty•

Trigger warning!

Tyler knew now that he wasn't worth the trouble. First his wife, and now his mind had given up on him, he really wasn't worth it. He couldn't  shake the feeling that he should be crying more, but his eyes were dry, his soul hardened like baked clay. He felt the cracks begin to form at the edges of his sanity, slowly crumbling. His bones rubbed against each other slowly, his skin stretching over them. I knew my skin that wrapped my frame wasn't made to play this game. Tyler laughed humorlessly into the loud silence of the hotel room. He looked down at his wrist. It's fine skin was ringed with tattoos, but as he looked closer he could see the thin scars, like stitches of white thread stretching across a canvass of silk. Fucking poetic Tyler, just great, your song writing days are over, quit sugar coating things. Poetry is just a cowards shield from the world.
Tyler's mind threw insults at him, and he no longer cared. What was the point of the blurryface album when he had never really defeated him at all. Red eyes and smoky hands lurking next to his heart, caged in his ribs, haunting his hollow frame.

How will it be Tyler? Will you fight, or will you just give up and let me in. I know you've always wanted to, ever since we were first introduced. It's the easy way out Tyler, let's me honest, you aren't strong enough to fight a day longer.

The febal response from Tyler was a faint whisper.
"No,
Not
Yet."
Why not Tyler? So easy, so easy....
Blurry sang in his head.
"Five
More
Minutes."
For what Tyler? What in your life is so important.
"Josh."
Ah yes. Lover boy. We both know you weren't upset about Jenna, it's almost like you planned it.
"Shut up."
It's not like you have a chance with him. He's straight Tyler, straighter than your crooked road of a mind.
"No, no don't say that."
You need to let me help Tyler, you need help, you need a doctor, you need me."
"That may be, but I'll do this when and how I want to, now LEAVE!" He screamed, his voice cracking with frustration.

Silence

Finally, thought Tyler.
He pulled out a page from his notebook and wrote. He told josh everything he had always needed to tell someone. Ink flowing in sloppy slurred letters across the threatening blankness of the white paper.
Words without meaning, filling, or maybe, maybe josh would care enough to read it. Tyler wished, prayed, it was the last thing he wanted to do. The last impact he wanted to have on this world. He wanted josh to know everything,
Wanted the last memory of him to be a honest one.
Letters crammed their curled forms into every last square inch of the pale paper. Tyler realized as he wrote that he wasn't writing for josh anymore, he was writing for himself. Finally he had come to an agreement with himself. A truce. He knew that this was all he had needed all along, to write everything down, to leave the poison of his thoughts preserved on paper and depart. Like in the movies, he thought. When the woman waits for months for the man she loves, only to receive a letter saying that he was sorry but he had to follow his heart and leave. Poetic. Stop with the poetry Tyler, Jesus.
He could picture the tears running down his mothers wrinkled cheeks when she heard. Wished it could be any other way, but no,
No this was his fate, he had known all along, he had always felt the pull toward infinity. He loved bridges for they were the walkway between life and death, a perfect balance.
And the fans, well the fans would finally know he had given his all to them, every drop of creativity, every drop of energy in his used up body.
It's amazing what you think about when there's nothing left concern you. Meditative, it was the utmost serenity, the clear white you only experience on the ledge between sanity and insanity, conscious and sleep, floating and drowning. Slippery smooth and clean, so beautifully clean and new.
Tyler reached into his bag, his hands shaking more and more. He was afraid of the power controlling him, like the man he was raised to
Be had just up and left, abandoning the sinking ship of his life, leavening him to drown in a black, black ocean.
Among the soft tee shirts that felt so wrong against his cold shaking hands he found a hard plastic bottle. He gripped the white cap, twisting hard, releasing his frustration with everything on that cap. It snapped off, and hundreds of small white pills flying into the air. Their shiny capsules seemed frozen in time for a moment, glinting in the stripes of afternoon light slanting through the cheap hotel blinds.
In a trance he dropped to the floor, the stiff carpet digging into his bare knees painfully.
In a panic he scooped as many of the pills as he could into his shaking hands.
His vision blurred the colors of his trembling fingers clutching at the pills. Thick warm tears dropped slowly onto the them.
This is it Tyler, you've finally chosen what you've known was inevitable for years. Shaking hands with the dark parts of your thoughts.
He brought his hands ever so slowly up to his quivering lips.

One strangled breath in.

One shuddering breath out.

Then he knew he had put this off far to long already. He parted his lips gently, tipping his head back, letting the poison in.
With every smooth capsule that slid down his throat he felt death approaching faster.
The heaviness of his soul started to drift away, leaving in little wisps like the smoke of a blown out candle. Smoke curling in the the sheets of light illuminating dust caught in the air.
He slowly relaxed.
Fine spiderweb cracks stretched their way slowly across his vision.