regional at best.

make them stop

song: glowing eyes

we all know somebody who knows somebody who's doing great
i know some people who know people who are flying straight
but I'll kindly enter in to rooms of depression
while ceiling fans and idle hands will take my life again

trigger warnings// mental illness, suicide, depression

a/n: copied and pasted from a previous short story i created for this song.

👥💭👥

Silence.

Anxiety laced, ear ringing, silence. The type that not many people enjoyed. The type where it could muddle your brain and cause you to become disoriented from just how much sound that isn't there. Sometimes the quiet could cause people to delve into states of the mind that would affect you in ways that weren't good. But, for others, the lack of sound waves was exactly what they needed.

Or it was the loneliness that caused fairly clear minded people to go even a little bit loopy. The lack of human interaction or just human touch in general, can cause you to do horrible things. Or think horrible things. The two are both equally terrible. But, just like silence, sometimes it's okay to not have those things. Other times, it isn't.

~~

Sometimes, when he really needed a distraction but are too unwilling to get a CD or just do basically anything, he'll turn on his fan and just watch it whirl around and around. It wasn't necessarily loud, but it moved quite fast.

One time, he had tied a piece of string to one of the arms and watched it whirl around as well. Mostly because he wanted something else in the mix.

Occasionally, he'd wonder what it would be like if he was hung from the fan and swirled around as well.

~~

There used to be... These hands. And no, not those cut off ones like in the scary movies, hands connected to arms that were connected to shoulders and so on. Except, the hands connected to this body were special. They were warm and gentle, but large and callused.

They belonged to a man with cotton candy like blue hair and these soft brown eyes. He had a crooked nose but a straight smile. He wore a tree in his left arm (my left, his right). It was quite lovely and he found it so so interesting.

Sometimes, he would hold his hand and kiss his cheeks amd his forehead. It would make him giggle and smile.

The man with the nice hands made him happy.

~~

But, not all happiness lasts to see the next sunrise. It doesn't last to see the next full moon or pure black sky. Sometimes it doesn't even get a chance to finish the night.

The blue haired boy with the crooked nose but straight smile had gotten into a car accident, and hadn't survived. His death didn't take it's sudden toll on the other for awhile, it took weeks.

It took years.

~~

Those hands had slowly disintegrated from the other's life, those warm eyes that held something the brunette never found out. The curly blue head had made sure to never leave the brunette alone, saying things such as, "you're sick, Ty." and "I'm here to be your guardian angel."