((I'veee...sort of?? posted this somewhere before?? but I still sort of like it so.
" Have a good day, thank you."
John sighed, Putting down the landline phone and slumping into the bed upstairs. How many phone-calls had he had to make considering he made a mistake and slept for two days straight. You were tired. No, make that, you were very, very tired. John hadn't felt this tired in your entire life, at least as far as he could remember. Really, you'd remember feeling this tired if you'd ever felt it before. It sank deep into his bones, his muscles, his tendons, and refused to be moved, no matter what he did. It hung over his mind, zapping it of all energy and draining the colour out of everything. It clouded and muddied his limited emotions, John didn't like feeling strong emotions; Even the tiniest of a frown exhausted him completely.
John was tired of life. Everything changed too quickly (or too slowly) for his liking, nothing ever stayed the same, how he liked it.
He groaned and turned himself over, Sinking into the mattress as his heavy eyes stared at a family photo on the wall.
normal.
It looked..painfully normal, Perfect. Everything a usual, suburban family should be. Why can't you upkeep that image? It all took one mistake, one word, one tiny little thing, MY.
Mistakes happen, Everyone makes them; You're just the type of man who'd very rarely make one, especially not this...*important.* People can make hundreds, millions— hell, even DOZENS of mistakes per day, they just range from the tiny *(like forgetting to brush your teeth)* to the large *(like revealing to your son that— nevermind.)* Most people never made mistakes this large though, and probably never will.
The mayor surely makes mistakes, maybe kings and queens do. Children, Adults, teenagers. Rich and poor, They're inescapable...But you're an exception, John, __You__ rarely make them. You were at the top of your class..if you remembered right, you used to play hockey. You made the hockey team as well! Until—
'MY'
Who said you ever owned anything...Well, Other than property. You owned a good few shares in oil companies, Maybe a car, Other than that though..Did you really own anything that was..important? John guessed that maybe he was just a cog in a machine, something that didn't seem important until it was gone; However, There's always the small chance that..you aren't imp— He blinked and looked at the image, You are important. You're the man of this house, you pay rent, you pay shipping fees on having your shopping delivered. You look after the garden.
You're important because you're the man of this family; Even if Rayne isn't really your kid, You're still his father. You have legal ownership, it doesn't matter if he runs off to the woods, you'll find a way to fix it.
He didn't feel upset about it, Or even mad actually, It was wonderful. John has learnt over time he really feels..*nothing* at all, What's the point of feeling things like emotions? They're a hindrance.
You can go about your daily life like nothing's wrong! even if you're sleeping your entire life away, but you still get work finished on time. You can go through the same routines every day! yet even you can't tell you've long stopped properly doing them and are merely going through the motions...But he thought that if he *wasn't* cleaning his glasses properly he would've noticed by now, right? ~~John felt like he was reduced to nothing more than a robot, an automaton. Worse yet, he couldn't *escape* it, he just had—~~
Sleep didn't cure anything anymore ~~, it frankly just made it worse.~~ Not that he ever slept soundly at night, to begin with really. John thought since sleeping soundly relieves exhaustion...Maybe he just needed to figure out how... Sure, He used to stay up long hours on the phone, long phonecalls lasting hours as he tried to scribble down the words that were important, the sounds blurring with one another as he struggled to stay on task those few days he had to do that; Walking around like he was from the walking dead, struggling to pretend he wasn't about to pass out from exhaustion and topple onto the sidewalk.
He reached for an empty glass on the bedside table and heaved as he tried to get up from the bed, looking down it and sighing. Before flopping back on the mattress and rubbing his forehead. John already anticipated he would sleep afterwards, he worked out the dosage so it'd be like that— And he was never wrong. Strong men like you wouldn't be, it's how you got such a powerful job.
John sunk into the mattress again, This time his eyes finally shutting and trying to let himself get into a comfortable sleep as he stopped tossing relentlessly The golden warm light from the bedside lamp bounced off his face, the dark outline of his glasses hiding his eyes while he let out a heavy sigh blocking out any of the noise from the TV downstairs.
He blocked out the phone ringing.
He blocked out the knocks at the door.
He blocked out everyone and everything.
Because sleeps more important, and you John.
You're more important.
DING DONG!
"JOHN SOMEONE'S AT THE DO— OH FOR FUCK SAKES—"
" JOOOOOOHNNNN?"
