Don't Forget About Me | TØP

Chapter 2 // Josh

I remember a lot of things.

I remember how everything used to be before Twenty One Pilots. It was weird but simpler and complex at the same time, and even though I don't remember exactly how everything was, I have managed to become a different person. A happier person. I was so glad I had Tyler by my side, and I felt like he was a key that allowed me to change, to overcome myself. 

It's amazing how much a person can influence your life, that when you lost them you don't know what to grip. It's like swimming away from the coast and then feeling like you're going to drown but it's too late, you can't go back to the coast because way too far into the water.

Okay, Tyler's not dead, but it feels like he just left us. Like he left me. The person I saw today at the hospital wasn't Tyler, he was an empty chest, a projection. He wasn't my Tyler.

I remember running away from him, colliding against a wall, crying my eyes out like a little kid that had just lost his mother at the supermarket. I remember everyone's eyes locked on me, the soft grip of Mark's hand against my shoulder, and Tyler's family shooting me glances that said "We warned you, boy". A complete deja vu, if you ask.

Now I'm back to the hotel room, with no enough strength to keep crying, kind of drained and tired and with the desire of burying my face on a pillow and sleep and drift away from everyone and everything. 

And that's exactly what I'm doing right now. I slept for hours and woke up screaming or shivering or something and then went back to sleep and I felt like a whole year has slipped from my fingers and I have wasted time sleeping. But it doesn't matter.

This is the fourth time I have woken up, and I'm already tired of sleeping. Ironic, right? I'm staring at the ceiling of the hotel room, and I wonder how many people have been through what we all are going through, how many people have felt broken and desperate when a person they love has woken up from a long, heavy sleep and his or her mind has erased every memory from them. If you're wondering how this feels just imagine being expelled from your life and being thrown into a dark abyss and falling and disappearing. Or maybe it feels different, maybe is different for everyone. And that's what makes us really interesting in our own way.

I close my eyes and try to think about all of those emotions surfacing my mind, those feeling filling my chest and stabbing my throat, and I realize it's nice to have them. Yes, it hurts, but it's better than having none. Even the empty spaces I have right now feel good. Maybe I will drift into another sleep if I keep thinking about things that make total nonsense. Or maybe not, and I will keep wondering what's the best thing about feeling miserable.

"Josh?" I hear a voice outside my room. "Josh, are you awake?"

I groan softly and open my eyes. I don't want to answer, maybe they will think I'm asleep and will go away, but then I realize that's super rude.

But it doesn't matter.

"Josh," The same voice says my name again and I realize it's Mark. "I swear if you're avoiding me-" He sighs and I feel bad for a second. "listen, I can't sleep. I need to talk to someone really bad. But I understand if you're asleep, I really do. Jesus, I don't know if you're listening or not but please. I-" He hesitates again. "You know what? Never mind."

I stand up and almost fall down to the floor. I crawl to the door, stand up again, and open it. The brightness from outside makes my eyes burn so bad, I already got used to the darkness of the room since the moment I pulled the curtains closed. But my eyes adjust rapidly to the figure in front of me.

Mark's hair is messier and is wearing the simplest piece of clothing I have ever seen on him: an old, ripped tee, a pair of pants and Crocs. Crocs, I swear to God.