prove me wrong

• 15 •

"Josh," she repeated, "so a boy, that's great, that's really great, Tyler." I knew that the sudden change of mood resulted from me mentioning Dad, and the guilty conscience struck me. "Yes," I said, also much friendlier, almost unfamiliarly polite, "he is - I mean, that's really great." "Maybe you'll introduce it to me sometime, will you?" She said, and I nodded slowly. "Maybe." And with that, I disappeared from the kitchen in my room.

I slept badly that night. I had a nightmare, as always. It was always the same dream, I was chased by Blurryface, who was just a deep, angry voice, shadowy, barely human, and yet he seemed to pursue me until I stood on the edge of a cliff, below me just blackness, and then i just fell. The fact that I had this one dream would probably have made it more bearable, but it did not, quite the contrary. It was like going through hell every night. I woke up screaming. I kept yelling in the darkness of my room for a while before gasping for air. It was just a dream, I told myself, none of that was reality. My room was pitch dark, and all that could be heard now was my own flat breath. I wiped my face and realized with surprise that I was crying. More and more tears ran down my cheeks and dripped on my blanket. I pulled my legs up to my chest and rolled up like a cat. I had never told my mother or anyone else that this was one of the reasons that I almost did not sleep. Apart from the fact that I usually could only fall asleep after hours of reflection, most of the time I was woken up by my nightmares after a short while. After a while, my breath slowed again, and I sang into a restless sleep.

I spent the first half of the next day playing the ukulele and guitar. I had written another song, the first one in a long time, as I was apparently in a writer's block. I tried to talk myself out of annulling the blockade of Josh, but in the end I knew that was exactly what it was. I did not know exactly how I got that song, the lyrics, but it actually did seem to be exactly what I felt. I had always tried to turn my thoughts and feelings into songs, and this time I had succeeded again for a long time. And yet, neither ukulele nor guitar wanted to match the song, so I played a little on the accordion until it actually sounded good. I took a deep breath before I started to sing.

I'm a goner, somebody catch my breath. I'm a goner, somebody catch my breath. I want to be known by you ...

when I had finished, tears ran down my cheeks in torrents. I gasped before I just collapsed, in the middle of my room, sobbing like an injured animal. The pain in my chest was almost unbearable, and I opened my mouth, but no scream escaped my throat. And so I lay crumpled on the floor, in a sea of ​​tears, filled with sobs and silent screams.

I need your help to take him out.