• When my heart rate was nearly back to normal and I could breathe a bit better, I finally looked at the man next to me. He had washed all of the stage makeup off and his breath smelled like puke. He had dark purple bags under his eyes and fresh tear stains covering his cheeks. "Tyler," I whispered. "Shh, it's okay. I'm okay. You're okay. Everything's okay," he tried to reassure me. "Why did you do this to yourself?" • TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains talk of anxiety, depression, self harm, suicide, and eating disorders. Mild language is also used. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2015 All Rights Reserved - desolateheart