Commentary Crew One Shots

Notebook (angst)

James's POV:
I look around at my sitting room in disgust. All around me there's empty beer cans and a wine bottle. Feels like ages since I drank that, but it must have only been a few hours. All I remember from last night is getting utterly shitfaced and... Crying. I remember a lot of crying and writing. Most of the time when I feel like I need to get some shit out of my head, the best way to do it is to write it all down. All my friends say I should talk to them or get a therapist or something but it's not that simple in my mind. If I tell them all the shit going on in my head, all the shit I hide behind smiles and jokes, they'll think I'm mad. Or worse, they'll understand too much, and feel pressured to be there for me all the time. It's funny, cos if I do that, I'll drive all my friends away and won't have any left to vent to...

I sit up on the couch, groaning at the dull throbbing in my head. I blearily look around for my notepad. Most of the time this notepad gets written in, then left completely alone untill I next need it. I don't reread any of the things I write. Why? Because why would I? Why on Earth would I feel the need to or want to relive some of the darkest times in my life by reading through them? But this time is different, I feel like I should, I can't explain it.

I spot my notebook on the floor, opened pages down, like it had been thrown. Shit. The wall behind it doesn't look damaged at least, that's happened before. I drag myself up off the couch, grabbing the notebook off the floor on my way to the kitchen. I got to the kitchen and took a deep breath before opening it. This could only go two ways, ok or disastrous. The notebook only has ten or so pages left in it, so it was easy to find last night's entry. It started off;

"I don't know why I put up with this shit. I'm so sick of it. I don't want to die, but I don't want this life. I feel stuck at this point in my life. Graduated with a degree in languages by the time I was 20, now I have student loans to pay off. By 23 I met Alex and all the lads and my YouTube channel was doing ok. Now I'm 25 at a million subscribers on YouTube, but at what cost? Most of my friends are YouTubers and I hardly have any time between videos to do anything other then the bare minimum to survive. Does anyone else even feel like this? Alex has told me about his depression and anxiety and I've witnessed it firsthand too, but what about your average, working class Londoner? I wish I could spend the day in someone elses mind. Not even to be them, just to observe. See how they work. I feel like I'm now constantly overthinking, wether it be about friends, family, schedules, anything really."

I shakily swallow and quietly close the book. I remember now. But I suddenly realise I don't want to. I close my eyes, but it's too late. A few tears have already escaped, rolling down my cheeks and nose. Why do I do this to myself? I knew what this would do and I did it anyways. I'm such an idiot. An idiot as well as a failure. And there I go again. The mental self harm. I'm constantly putting myself down and telling myself everyone else is out to get me, that my loved ones might act like my friends, but they're not, they're all laughing behind my back. I find myself balling up my fists and putting them to my temples. Hard. As if I'm trying to physically force out the bad thoughts.

I turn around to the sink and pour myself a glass of water. Sipping slowly at the cool water calmed me a little, dragging me back to reality. I suppose sometimes the stress of being the big man all the time takes its toll too. I'm always the one who has to make the first move, or be the strong one, but how can I be when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and disappear?

I eye my notebook, filled with rage and sadness and self loathing. I suddenly fly at it, ripping out the pages and shredding them into confetti. Then I gather up the pieces and sprinkle them into the bin. I take the empty hardback cover and push that into the bin as well. As I lift my foot off the pedal, I feel a sense of relief. This isn't the end of my stresses, and they're not going to stop, but as I hear the dull thud of the lid, I feel calmer and less like a wild animal. I feel more... at peace.

896 words
Hey my guys, gals and non-binary pals (if you get it, we can be friends, if not, vote and I'll forgive you lol), it's less then three weeks away from Christmas, but I'll still try to to at least one of these every week. Vote and comment any and all suggestions and ships you want me to write about, I'd really appreciate it.