hopeless purpose (dreamnotfound)

little blue riding hood

christmas eve.

and what a way to be spending it!

time seemed to whiz by as you got older, but not in a good way. it wasn't like a rickety rollercoaster that got your heart pounding, or that you had to stand in line for for hours, but that was all worth it in the end. there was no stop to this ride where the mechanical restrictions lift up and suddenly you feel free. you feel that elation of having survived a few more seconds in the midst of risking your life for only a passing minute of adrenaline rush.

there was none of that.

it was more in the way that you don't realize any time has passed until all your moments are gone.

your time is up and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

it's the type of fast where each individual day drags on for hours and your limbs grow heavier and heavier with exhaustion. you collapse on the ground in a tired heap, only coming back into consciousness at the bitter realization that weeks have passed and all you did was lay in bed. you stared at your blue-lit phone for hours on end mindlessly scrolling, checking between the empty notification boxes across an assortment of apps always available at the touch of your finger.

you wake up and realize maybe you hadn't brushed your teeth in a while and that your bed  sheets felt too hot all of the sudden against your skin, but that you can't get up to fix it. maybe you finally muster the strength to crawl out of your misery only to find your body crashing back down onto the mattress that's made itself your unfortunate companion; due to the recent lack of nutrition. you're tired and confused, and so your body functions along with the emotions.

that's the situation george found himself in.

nothing had particularly gone south in his life to drill him into this deep slumped state, yet here he was. sometimes these types of things just come onto you and there's nothing you can do except rot in the miserableness for a while; the only hope is that you'll flourish and feel new again after it passes. or hope that it passes at all.

a few bottles of water with minuscule sips left scattered around his room, paired with various other consequences to his recent mood.

some of those consequences were in the form of trash that simply needed to be tossed into the garbage. while some were much more sinister and manifested in fading carvings to porcelain skin.

he wasn't proud of any of it, but what could be done?

there was the inner struggle for whether or not to reach out to someone for help. maybe he'd feel better in the company of someone by his side. in fact he knew he would at least temporarily. all he needed was a long hug and someone to pull him from this pit of despair.

but then he got to the pessimistic thinking...

thoughts that advised against letting anyone see him like this. because everyone has their own burdens to carry around and who would he be to add to them? if they can do it themselves then so can he.

it was something he thought about often. the fact that everyone always wants to promise you can tell them anything and that they'll be there for you no matter what. which may be true depending on the person, but they never actually want you to follow through with it. see, people don't like actually having to play therapist all the time, they just want to be able to say they were helpful. they want the satisfaction that they made you feel better and that life is so much easier when nobody is sad to bring them down.

and when phrased that way, it seems better to just stay quiet about the things keeping you up at night. the ones that leave you tossing and turning in restless sleep until you finally realize you won't be getting any, so you sit up and do pointless activities to bide time.