Lance Shots

Void

Lance was stuck. He stared blankly at the glowing stars on his ceiling, the moon shining brightly outside his window in the dead of night. The alarm clock taunted him, big read numbers that read 3:28 A.M.

He was tired, yearned to sleep, but couldn't. His mind was in chaos, thoughts swirling in a monsterous hurricane that kept him from the sweet relief of his heartbeat slowing and breathing calmly, the sweet blessing of Mr. Sandman, his dreamland. This was a reoccurring theme many nights, but even without his mind running rampant, he always has trouble sleeping. Tossing and turning for hours, while others could just close their eyes and enter the Dreamworld. He begs for it, but it doesn't ever happen. Even when he got good sleep, he always felt so tired.

Instead, his thoughts plague him. Many things troubled him. He thought of how he was a different person around everyone he meets. He acts different around everybody. Everyone knew a different version of him. What's he really like? What's his personality? Does he even have one? This regards more than his emotions, it involves sexuality, and his identity. Who is he?  When he's alone, there's just an empty shell of a person. He thought of his emotions. He laughs, smiles, cries, and fumes with anger when around others. After, he doesn't even know if the emotions were real or if he tricked himself enough , taught, trained himself enough to act this way. It didn't feel real. When he's alone, it's just monotone and blank. Nothing felt genuine. When he catches himself in the act, his mind just blanks, flashes with error codes, as it drags him further from reality. Then, There's the factor of love. He doesn't know what it is, what it feels like, it's magic. He doesn't feel. He wants to, but he doesn't. Numb. Does he love his family, friends? He doesn't know, he can't feel it. He knows it's terrible, but he doesn't even think he would cry at a family members funeral and it be truly genuine. Lance knows how evil and heartless it makes him seem, but he just can't. He doesn't know what it feels like.

He thinks of how he doesn't know his purpose. What does he want to do after highschool? He has no burning passions, nothing that calls to him. What does his future hold for him? He had no plans, nothing. What is he to do when he has to make the decision? He can't make decisions as it is, it feels impossible. He lives his life on autopilot.

He thinks of how he always isolates himself. How he wants to be alone, but doesn't. He hides away from others. Why? He can't answer that question.

Lance thinks of how he says he's going to do something, but never does it. He has no motivation, no determination to do it. When he was younger, he was filled with determination, he believes. He actually used to follow through with the silent plans he made in his head. Where did it all go?

He thinks of his eating habits. Lance often doesn't even remember if he had ate earlier that day, why, because for some reason, he doesn't feel the hunger. Lance's hands  always cold to the touch from lack of eating and other sorts.

His anxiety, and possible different mental things keep his thoughts running around in circles. He can't stop fidgeting either, his hands just as restless as his head.

There's so many others things that are on his mind. He can't list them. They suffocate him. He feels empty, like a void. Living life on autopilot was exhausting. He doesn't know what to do anymore. Lance wonders why he even exists, why would you want him around?

Lance huffs and rolls on his side, closing his eyes once more. He stops right there, not wanting to go any farther. Though his attempts are futile, he tries again to sleep. Hopi g for a few hours of shut eye before the alarm for school rang in the air and he would have to leave the comfort of his bed.

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Vent sorta.... Does this make sense? Anyone else experience similar things?

Back at it with the angst. Whooooo!!!!

TA~ta💙