meh

It was going to be one of those days.

Those days where his heart seemed heavier than usual, burdened by emotion. Where the clouds in his mind covered up the sun and an endless deluge drowned the grass and flowers and trees. Where craved attention, but did not ask. He could not burden others with his emotions when they were so happy, after all.

And so, he prefered to sit in silence, to do nothing but stare at a screen, to allow that deluge to drown out what happiness he had. It was then where responsibilities felt like a ball and chain upon his legs, his arms, his heart. Where panic and anxiety set in, paralyzing him better than any venom. Where everything he enjoyed turned into things he avoided like the plague.

It was better or worse, depending on the day. Sometimes it was like a gentle rain, leaving as soon as it came. Sometimes it was like a thunderstorm that seemed to last for hours. And once, it felt like he was trapped in a tiny box that he would never escape from. Yes, that time, he remembered well: he lost a friend, the producer snapped at him for a less-than-spectacular recording, he looked absolutely disgusting, the day never seemed to goddamn end, and he just... snapped. The knives were welcoming him, so much more welcoming than the world he lived in. No, the pills screamed for attention. Would be less painful, he'd just sleep forever, just take us, take us!

And he did. And he woke up, with puke staining his bedsheets.

No matter what, though, he tried his best to keep his burdens to himself. Friends may have been there to help, but what if it happened too often? What if they got annoyed? What if they hated him as a result? "Who cares? Go somewhere else with your depressing shit," someone once told him.

And so, he shut his heart tight, his sorrows buried behind a happy facade.