not today | joshler oneshots

depression.

tyler got up from his bed, slipping out into the hallway before walking down the carpeted stairs. he made his way to the bathroom, soon coming face to face with his reflection. he was convinced that his reflection was a completely different person than him; someone he would much rather be than his own self.

they seemed to only exist in the bathroom mirror, and they only existed when someone was looking at them. but for tyler, he was much different. he existed all the time, even when he was alone. and when he was alone, it was just barely existence.

it was sufferance, it was simply enduring the wrath of the earth while everything else fell into place. but his reflection lead a much better life, from what the brunet could see.

tyler decided to lose the connection with his reflection, quickly changing into some black skinny jeans and a random t-shirt, slipping his black hoodie on over it. this was his everyday attire, the same 'emo' get-up day in, day out.

he didn't necessarily care either way; of course he wanted to wear better clothes, but it never bothered him that he basically wore the same thing every day. he slipped out of the bathroom, grabbing his phone and sitting on the couch in the dimly lit living room, opening instagram and absentmindedly scrolling through the posts.

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tyler placed his backpack on his lap, reaching in his pocket to grab his headphones before plugging them into his phone and shuffling his music. all he really listened to was sad songs, especially on the bus. it always made him feel like a sad little main character of a movie when he could just tune out all of the other people and focus on the beat.

before long, he was at school. he stood up from his lonely seat, slinging his backpack across his shoulder as he walked down the aisle and off the dull yellow school bus. he sulked over to the crosswalk, looking both ways before crossing and entering the large school he had come to loathe.

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he seemed fine.

he was fine.

at least, that's what everyone thought.

he put on a mask, a sort of costume, that tricked everybody into thinking he was doing just fine. he smiled, laughed, and joked around from time to time, playing into their game of happiness.

but he knew himself better.

he knew that he couldn't last all day.

he knew he packed that thumbtack for a reason.

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the brunet locked the bathroom stall behind him, deeply sighing once he closed his eyes and rested his back against the door. he reached into his sweatshirt pocket, pulling out the thumbtack.

the top part of the needle lightly pricked his fingertip, but that was a feeling he had come to love. the temporary pain took away from the permanent one that had manifested in his brain. he steadily removed his sweatshirt, exposing his arms, which were already covered in cuts and scratches.

it looked like someone were trapped inside him, trying to claw their way out. in a way, there was someone trapped inside him. his own self. it seems crazy or cliche, but it was true. he felt truly trapped inside his own body, like a prisoner of his mind.

he was stuck in a vicious cycle of torture, and his thoughts were locking him away from everything he knew. tyler gripped the thumbtack tightly and dragged it across his forearm without hesitation, the feeling almost intoxicating.

there was no blood; there never was. it wasn't a safety precaution, but tyler never seemed to draw blood from himself. it made him feel guilty, almost selfish. like he couldn't even hurt himself correctly.

like he was so broken that even his body had decided to quit him. like every other aspect of his life, he was dissatisfied. but, the small shoot of pain that sent throughout his body was enough to keep him cutting and scratching all down his right arm, then his left, and then his right thigh.

it was a deeply gruesome sight; the slashes completely damaging his skin. he no longer can wear shorts, t-shirts, or anything he used to enjoy. it didn't affect him, though, as he didn't find pleasure in anything anymore.

it was yet another example of his body giving up on him, and it was retched. but, it was his life now, and he had gotten used to it. so, the cycle of cutting and self-harm repeats.

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