1
He sat in his room, looking up at the ceiling listening to the sound of the rain hitting the window and the quiet sound of his music playing from his speaker. Beside him laid a booked half read, the spin bent and warped from all the times he read it, half a pack of cigarettes a lighter that had seen better days and an ashed filled ashtray darkened with years of use.
He didn’t really care that his life looked blend to people who didn’t know him, because he knew himself. Or that's what he liked to tell himself. The truth is that he had lost himself in some ways but tried to be his old self. The friend who was always there for everyone no matter the circumstance. The friend that made all the planes. The one that knew all the good spots in town that sold the best coffee and cakes. The one that knew how to make everyone feel welcomed and loved. But through all that, he never got anything in return for all the things he had done for his friends.
He slowly started to doubt if they cared about him. He doubted if they remembered all his favourite shops. His favourite book, or the brand of cigarettes that he liked to smoke. He began to think that they didn’t know what his favourite coffee was at every time of year despite getting the same thing he got every season. He doubted that they even remembered what his favourite colour is and how much gifts in that colour give him joy.
He had given so much of himself away to make sure that his friends were happy and that they could thrive in school. He had given so much away to get nothing in return. He wasn’t mad that he got nothing back, he was just hurt that his wellbeing was an afterthought to his friends.
And there he was in his bed with silent tears falling down his face, the taste of salt resting on his lips. Lost in his thoughts, thinking about ways to get his friends to notice him. Notice the hurt he was going through. Notice how he stopped talking, how he was falling apart under the weight of what he has been through and others have put him through. He just layed in bed. To him it felt like an eternity just laying there and thinking but in reality it had only been a few minutes. He saw himself grabbing for the pack of darts that sat beside him, reaching for the lighter that he had been refilling with lighter fluid since it first went out for the amount he smokes. Bringing the smoke to his lips and the lighter to light it, he sat up.
The room had gotten darker since he started reading his book for the fiftieth time. He had started reading hours ago, he wasn’t sure when he put the book down, or when all his feelings caught up to him and he finally let go and cried.
Looking over at his clock he noticed the time. A quarter past nine, meaning he had missed supper. Groaning to himself, he got up and walked down stairs to the front door looking for his coat and shoes, annoyed with himself for not watching the time. Putting on his shoes and his coat he prepared himself for the rain and the chill of the wind that came with it. Once he had prepared himself, he walked out the door.