No One Will Love Me

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~Saturday night, 11:00 Pm~

After hours of explaining everything to Criag and Tweek, Clyde went home at 8:16 pm, but actually made it home at 9:25 pm for how slow he was walking. He didn't eat anything the entire day and lied to his father, saying he stopped by Taco Bell to eat. He lied about all of it.

He declined dinner, even though he wanted the food. 'I don't need it.' is what he thought, but that just what he needed.

It was soon time to go to bed, but he knew he wasn't getting any rest like the night before. Currently, it was 11 pm. He had been laying, looking at the ceiling for an hour. Nothing. His mind was blank.

The voices soon started arriving, each one saying a new thing wrong with him, why he will never be loved, how no one loves him, how they all fake it. The list goes on. The voices were enough to make a person insain really.

Clyde needed to hold out a little longer, at least until the end of the weekend, but even that seemed impossible for him. He wanted to at least let Token take one last look at him before he did it.

The pills are there in his drawer, but he resisted the urge. The knife was under his bed, but he couldn't do it. The rope was under his floorboard, but... there was no reason. He can do it, he can... something was stopping him though.

Clyde grabbed the blade from under the bed and looked at it. He then lifted up his sleeve and looked at the cuts he put on there earlier that day and the night before.

One swift movement. Another cut placed. The second going deeper. The third getting close to the nerve. The fourth barely breaking skin. The fifth cutting out a word on the pervious cuts and the current ones. 'Crybaby' it read.

Switching to the other arm. One swift movement makes one cut. Another goes deeper. Third hitting a vain, making it bleed more then the rest. Fourth connecting two new ones. The fifth cut out another word. 'Worthless' is what it read and what he thought he was.

He sat up weakly and placed the blade with the bandages then took the wrapping and wrapped up his arms with fresh bandages. The voices never left him, making him slowly become insain, loss more and more of his sleep.

Clyde scooted close to the wall and hugged his knees to his chest, rocking himself slowly. He got a notification, but his phone died soon after.

What felt like hours pass. It was currently 1 in the morning, the short male resting his head on his knees, crying softly to himself, mumbling what the voices day out loud.

30 minuets pass and Clyde finally falls asleep, but he didn't get any sleep. All the voices did was restrict him from having a good sleep. Images passing by him like a memory on replay. All the times he was happy were gone...

He was nothing now.

The last thought he had before he fell asleep into a restless sleep was,

'No one will love me... no one will ever love me.'

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