Searching for Purpose (Twenty One Pilots)

15. Too Too Too

Tyler stared down at his blue-stained hands. He wasn't cut out to be a hair stylist in the future.

Yet another thing you've failed at, he thought. Why don't you go try and paint something? Gotta keep the ball of failure rolling, don't we?

Angrily he shut off the sink and set down the washcloth that he had been scrubbing his hands with. With a sigh he left his bathroom and collapsed onto his bed. This morning had been great. This week had been great, in fact. He had talked to Jenna more, and managed not to literally run into her again, he had finished an essay three days before it was due, and had beat a new video game with Josh on the first try. It had all been so great, so spectacular, so normal, that Tyler thought that maybe he was getting better. Maybe whatever had made its home in his head for the past eighteen years of his life had finally moved out. Maybe he would finally feel happy.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

It had started somewhere around noon. The dark thoughts rolled in like clouds and took their knives and daggers and dragged them across his mind. They bit and they stabbed and they twisted and they killed. It was painful and it was terrifying, and it took every ounce of Tyler's strength not to cry when his hands shook too much and got dye all over the place. Josh had said that it was cool, that that's what the towel was for, but to Tyler it was just another thing he couldn't do. It was the final blow in his fight against insanity.

Tyler let the tears fall down his cheeks at an alarming rate. All the frustration and pain and anger and loneliness and not enough not enough not enough too much came crashing down on him. He was drowning in the ocean of his mind and he couldn't swim to the surface. Something was holding onto his ankle and pulling him down deeper deeper further deeper. He couldn't breathe yet he was surrounded by air and it felt like his lungs were about to burst. The rate of his heart could beat the fastest engine in the world.

And the worst part was, it didn't stop. It just got worse. The voices grew louder louder meaner harsher louder too loud too loud too much too much. Tyler couldn't even concentrate on a single sentence they were shouting at him.

You should have done it when you she would never like someone like he just pities you he would never they wouldn't care if you never came home they're better off you should have done it when you you should have done it when you should have you should have you should-

"I wish I did!" Tyler cried out. "I wish I did, I wish I did!"

But you were too weak to do it, now weren't you? You're just full of empty promises these days.

"Shut up!" Tyler yelled. His voice was hoarse from crying. "Go away!"

But then you'll be alone. Oh. Wait.

You already are.

Tyler wiped furiously at his tears and jumped out of his bed. He ran over to his foot locker and tried desperately to open it.

"Dammit!" he yelled. "God fucking dammit!"

Without the key he couldn't open the locker and get to what he desperately needed. What he wanted. What he craved.

What you're scared of.

With a yell Tyler picked up one of the tiny penguin figurines and smashed it against his wall. It shattered instantly. He raced over and picked up one of the largest pieces.

Do it. I dare you.

He held it close to his wrist and pushed down, but he didn't move it. His hands were shaking and tears blurred his vision.

Come on, you're almost there.

Tyler gasped for another breath of air. His room was suddenly too hot and too small and not enough too much.

You're almost there. It will be over before you know it even happened.

"No," Tyler whispered.

Don't be weak again, Tyler. Don't be weak.

"No!" he yelled again. "I'm strong!"

Tyler dropped the ragged piece of penguin that was still clutched in his hand. He quickly moved away from the broken pile of pieces and sat on his hands.

"I'm strong!"

You're weak.

"I'm strong! I didn't do it! I'm strong!" he yelled to himself.

Weak, Tyler Joseph. That's all you'll ever be. Weak and worthless.

"No, I'm not. No," Tyler repeated. "I am not weak. I'm winning. I'm not weak."

Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid. Deep down you know how weak you really are.

"I'm not weak," Tyler said to himself over and over before he fell asleep on the floor of his room. Every time he repeated it his voice shook a little bit more than the time before and the tears flowed a little faster. By the time he actually drifted off, Tyler didn't believe the words he had said to himself.

He was weak.

He was worthless.

He couldn't win.