And the world shatters again, leaves pieces of sharp, cold glass in the air. Waits for a moment of weakness to cut wounds.
I fall and fall, without the will to stretch my hand just a little, tiny bit, without the will to even undertake an attempt to cling to something.
Can you recognize the darkened gleam in a person's eyes, who can't find the sense of life anymore?
Not the sense of life.
The sense to live.
The impulse, the urge, the instinct to exist.
Blank, dull, expressionless, vacuous, broken.
Proximity brings pain and agony.
How much can a person endure? Can you tell me? Please. Please would you tell me?
Please don't let me think anymore. Let me be the doll I want to be.
Not feeling, never ever feeling again.
How many times can a being collapse and try to stand upright nontheless?
How much can he endure and still try to reach the goals he set so long before in a time without agony?
People, seemingly so alike. Interests so .. related.
But... the more contact there was, the more senseless it appeared.
Proximity that kills.
And still you need it so deeply, crave for it so desperately, hope for it with every blood in your veins, with every beat of your heart.
You long for it with your entire being.... and still you know that it will crush you bit by bit. Your reflexes dwindle, your courage fades, you will wears away.
And the bitter thing is that you recognize it all. You can see yourself falling but you don't even care enough to do something - anything.
Lost hope leads to hoplessness, to distrust, to ... I don't know.
But I hate him for making me feel the way I'm feeling now. Nothing at all. I don't think I can feel anymore. Not the thing I want to feel anyway.
And I hate myself for pulling him through all the things.
And I hate that I can't love him anymore, because I don't seem to know what love is. In a time so long ago I knew. It was the... I think the warmth I felt deep within my heart when I he spoke to me. The way my body responded to his every unintended touch automatically.
The way he smiled for me, and the way I smiled for him. A smile that spoke of so many things. His spoke of trust, mine of love.
Maybe it was the happiness I felt, whenever he was around, maybe even the contentment when he wasn't. He was engraved in my heart after all.
Yeah... yeah I think that all could count as love...
But now....now it's just a washed-out memory between a thousand of nightmares. I'm actually surprised I can even remember it, something beyond needles and syringes, something beyond the false normality and the drugged reality.
Maybe he is my hope after all. Even if I can't feel anymore. Even if I can't touch anymore.
Maybe... maybe he is the only reason that kept me from suicide all that time.
I thought a thousand of times about it, mind you.
About the how, the when, the... the everything before I finally came up with the conclusion to end it with an overdose. Why not kill me entirely the way I used to kill my body now for all these months.
I open my eyes and adjust them to the dimmed light in the room. It's clearer now. I think I knew before that it could only have been him. I think he's the only one that would be allowed a single touch anymore.
I breathe in deeply, trying not to wake his crouched form. My throat feels... strange. Yeah... strange is a good word. I need ... water.... and thinking of need...
I need a syringe or whatever.... but I need it now.
I try to climb out of the bed and move towards the door that leads to the kitchen - at least I hope that's what is behind, I don't really know, to be honest.
My breath is ragged and I struggle to suppress a yawn. Goddammit, never knew it was this cold in here.
My eyes are slightly watery and I decide to go to the bathroom instead of the kitchen.
Maybe he has some pills....
Not exactly what I need but better than nothing I guess.
Shit. I really do need stuff soon, I think my head explodes.
I raise my hand slowly and open the small closet next to the basin with trembling fingers. I grip the first thing that comes to my reach. Aspirin.
I throw it down on the floor and try the next one.
Medicaments for belly aches, for cold.
Damn, don't tell me that's the only thing he has here? Where are the drugs? Where are the pills that -
"Goten what are you doing?"
Shit! I turn around and face the owner of this apartment and the former owner of my heart. Shit, why the hell did he have to come now.
"I have a headache." I tell him, not even a lie, but I don't think those silly pills will help against that one.
"You don't have any good medicine here," I'm going into motion and try to pass him by, out of the door, "so I'm sorry, but I have to go and fetch-"
I stop my speach apruptly when he grips my wrist and forced me around to face him directly. I look at him with wide eyes when he pinches my hands against the cold flagstones on the wall.
I can't help but tremble with the memory that comes with that position.
"T- Trunks..." My voice is quivering and I hate myself for not being strong enough. Again.
But he won't. No, no he won't.
"I won't let you go again, Goten."
If I wasn't so goddamn afraid, maybe I would have found his choice of words sweet. But this ...
I think he finally realized my situation, my trembling form, hardly able to hold my body up by myself but rather hanging limply in his arms.
"Are you cold?" He lets go of my wrists and catches my falling body immediately.
I jitter softly and shake my head no.
"Do you want me to bring you a blanket?" He asks again, looking deeply into my eyes.
Fuck. I want to hit him. I want to scream at him: It's not your fucking blanket that I want.
And all I still can do is whimper.
"Please.. please I need something... Please, Trunks, please bring me something..."
I hope he sees the pleading in my eyes, the desperate need lurking behind the slightly dilated pupils.
I think he does. And when he shakes his head slowly and pulls me closer to him I can do nothing but hate him more for putting me in agony again.
"Let go! Let me go! I need it! Trunks... please"
I try to find his eyes again, try to make him understand, but instead he just closes his lids while I tremble with silent tears.