Why can't I just die?

Stabbing me and burning

Despite my love for those noon hours, the void begins to swallow me more as I continue falling.
I see darkness, and amalgamations of colour I wish my eyes would identify as you.
But why can't I see things without their true value smeared across so I can tell you my thoughts?
Why can't I see things without the blood and tears blinding a pathetic fool like me?

Mask felt his tears begin to stop pouring from the puffy eyes of sickness and sulking, and so the cries and sniffles stopped as well. He tiredly wiped his tears away with his bloodied hands therefore smeared it across his face. His body shook with tired pains, a raging headache making him want to sleep despite knowing he could not. He just shook and aimed to grab his gas mask, struggling to grip it and therefore getting some cyan blood across it. He didn't care. He never cared. 

Mask just stood up and staggered once more before sliding the mask he was named for onto his face with a click of the straps. He relaxed his body before beginning to walk to his desk to get one of his lysol wipes he used to clean his computer moniter rather often. His hands, despite healed by themselves, burned softly as he wiped down his mask to get the blood to abandon the surface of it. His hands then shakily let go of the wipe to drop it onto his desk. The cyan squid just simply grabbed his phone from his desk before walking away from his room and down the hall.

It was the same as every other day at this point. Loud muffled music in Aloha's room, Army probably writing in his manual either in his room or at the supper table, and Skull eating candy on the couch. Mask always blocked everything out though, so much so he barely noticed if any of the members looked at him. He slid down into the bathroom and locked the door before tiredly staring at himself in the mirror. His smeared blood across his face made him look just extra tired when he had his mask aligned on his face. He ignored the pathetic sight he was though and flopped on the floor looking through the cabinet to find the cheap razor pack that everyone used in the building.

Mask usually hurt himself in very small ways before all this.
Biting of his skin.
Picking scabs.
Scratching.
Pinching.

But after he cut himself on the glass, it gave him more feeling in his life other than emptiness. So here he was, grabbing one of the fresh razors and clicking out the metal part with a small cut to his thumb. The numbness was deadly as he simply pull up his shorts best he could and began to lace his legs with decorated blood and cuts. His hands shook and he did hesitate at each chance he got to, before just cutting again for more feelings. Pain, anger, regret, anything but sad emptiness.

Before he knew it though, he heard someone knocking on the door to get him out. 
"Mask, hurry the fuck up taking a fat shit, cause I need to piss!"
Aloha was there again. Of course.
Mask just sighed dully and slid the razor he used by the rest, not even bothering to clean it. Though, he did get one of the black towels that everyone used after showers to clean the floor of his pathetic blood, and to clean his legs. He then just pulled his shorts over the cuts and stood up in pain. Boy did it hurt.

But like Mask cared anymore. He unlocked the door and walked out quietly without saying anything to Aloha, head down as he ignore one of his reasons for carrying on. His legs carried him back to the end of the hall where he turn to the left to just go into his room and relock the door. He began to zone out again during this time, the world morphing around him to show him what he never wanted to see. Figures of those he love, colours weaving into their shapes yet not quite capturing their faces.

"You can tell us anything you know, but then again- we might just pity you."
"We might not care at all."
"We're friends though, right?"

Mask's headache returned, adding to the rest of his current physical problems. Why'd he have to be so weak to his mind? The mind that pulled the strings of reality around his neck for choking cries to wrack his body. He was manipulative, he was a trickster, but his mind was the biggest trick of them all and it had gone against him. The world around him began to darken in his sights and he began to squeeze the wounds on his legs to make them bleed, looking for the same relief he had in the kitchen and the bathroom. Mask found none.

The horrible thoughts brought him to silent crying that shook his body like he was in a washing machine, the thoughts drowning him as he was bleached in sickening venomous truths. His breathing became very irregular after awhile, making him let out frantic pants with strained words escaping his lips. Sure, he could understand them but of course nobody else would. His crying was just another way for his brain to play with the body it had been gifted to control, and it was giving him so many wretched thoughts.

How come his thoughts just kept rushing up to pull at his heart.
Why was everything connected?

Mask just gave into his urges to gasp for air to not die from holding back his cries before burying his face back in that pillow. He kept crying as the thoughts whirred on and spread to every part of his brain. If only he didn't feel such ways.

It felt like five minutes of the horrible crying he had every day, every night, but infact it had been about twenty minutes of it. Mask didn't care however, he just went to his PC and decided to finally interact with his fellow team members. He slid into his seat, not bothering to put on his headphones and deciding to just simply type into their group chat. He blinked the dry tears and blood from his eyes a bit with a feeling of cracking as he send out;

[Hi]

. . .

Five minutes went by.

. .

Silence. He angled his sight towards the member list to see that they infact were online but not playing anything? and so he refreshed his page to see if the app was playing tricks on him. He looked towards the member list desperately to see if one of them were playing games. The only one playing games was Jersey, so was Luna and Designer just busy?
Th-they had to be, they wouldn't ignore him.

Mask decided to send another message, hands shaking as he type out very simply;

[Hello?]

He waited again, silence almost painful, and felt tears begin to prick his eyes. He thought the only people he could talk to were ignoring him for something else. His mind gave those familiar choking thoughts to the spotlight of his broken processers, their ability to intoxicate him so quickly pained him more from the sudden change in mood.

Mask coughed into his hand and felt horrible before going silent, refusing to let out anymore pathetic noises. He needed more medicine, surely? That had to be it. However, he didn't have the energy to get his happy pills thankfully and just put his hand over his mouth to hide those noises. He was numb enough from everything around him, after all.


Mask just supposed he'd stay like this for awhile now. 

Crying to nobody but himself about his problems and feeling worthless.

Crying as he accept the faces he love were just as he presumed they were truly.

Crying blurred their faces so much that it just took this much to finally realize the truth.

Crying so much too that he didn't see the notification before he closed the chat's window.

[Hey Mask!]

[Hewo!]

[Oh this chat is alive? Hi everyone!]

Maybe it was for the best though... Who knows what they would've found out if they spoke.

Mask has gone offline.