~PewDieCry Oneshots~

I Can't Do This Anymore (PewDieCry Oneshot)

A/N: Hey!

This is a short oneshot that I decided to suddenly write. I don't know why I'm writing this right now, since I have finals tomorrow, but oh well!

Btdubs, if y'all are reading A Wish on Amnesia: expect an update very soon! School ends this week, and I'm honestly hoping to get a chapter out before next week. Fight me if I don't.

Anyway, this oneshot is in Cry's POV, and if it's confusing, I'm sorry. I tried to write it like Cry's thoughts, so this oneshot may lack structure, transitions, and grammar.

-Crim

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God damn it. 

God damn everything.

I can't do this anymore. I can't do any of this anymore. 

It keeps happening, why can't it happen now, though?

I've waited too long for this, and now when I'm willing for it to happen, you say you're busy?

I love you, so please, give me the time to tell you it. How could you be so busy as to not be available anytime I call you? I've got time! I could confess any hour of the day--work? I'd skip work if it meant that I could finally ask what I've been meaning to ask for an entire year. 

Tears are gathering in my eyes as I remembered that it has been an entire year. I was not entirely aware of my feelings and we became friends. I hung out by your side to test if this is the sort of intimacy I had desired from you. But no, I realized that I had a crush on you. It was nice, cute: I could look at pictures of you for ages and I'd develop a plan on when and how I'd ask you. 

I've had this plan for a while now. I've been waiting for the right moment. And when that moment comes--

"Oh, you're busy? Well, uh, try Tuesday!"

I just received your reply a few minutes ago. You said you were working.

I was really sad the moment I found out, but now I'm just really mad.

Normally, emotions are directed to something or someone, and you sort of blame them to perhaps lessen your grief. However, I can't blame anyone here. I know you have your own busy schedule, and I can't force you out of work simply because I want to ask you out. I can't blame myself, either, no matter how much I want to. I need someone to blame for this, and I usually point fingers at solely myself.

But I'm free. I have all the time in the world.

So... How do I control this sorrow, this overwhelming distress?

My hands shake and saliva and tears dribble onto my pillow as I scream into the cushion. I don't want to take my anger out on anybody, so I've resorted to beating my pillow to death. My throat is sore and strands of chestnut brown hair are plastered to my sweat, tears, and drool-covered face. This isn't enough--this doesn't cure me of my unbearable pain. 

I roll off my bed, only to land roughly onto the carpet. Trembling, my shaky breaths and choking sobs  fill the room as I throw my body around the floor. My feet are propped up against the bed, then I'm lying down, spreadeagled, then I've recoiled into a ball that just reeks of the sense that I'm suffering.

How do I deal with this sudden stress?

I briefly considered throwing myself out the window, but what good will that do? Despite my mind currently off it's hinges, I still have the sanity to remind myself that this sadness isn't long-term, although it feels like it. 

It's torture to be in this state. What does one do? How can I solve this sadness?

Getting busy with cleaning or homework will get the matter off my mind, but I just had a mentally-draining day and couldn't possibly stress my mind anymore through homework. Cleaning didn't appeal to me, either.

Taking initiative always solves the problem, but the only thing I can do in this situation is keep asking when you'll have time so that I can get to the point of asking you out.

Writing my depression down always clears the mind, but I've never owned a journal or diary, and I certainly don't feel like writing my raw emotions down on a piece of scratch paper.

Sighing, I continued to hold myself together in this fetal position till my mind got better. Somehow, and don't ask me how because I don't know how, I began to calm down. My thoughts were stagnant, but my adrenaline began to slow down, and the sobs began to deplete. Deep, shaky breaths flowed in and out from my lips, and as I started to get better, I started to get more exhausted. The past mental and this current emotional strain had stressed my body out, and now it's ready for some rest.

God damn it. 

I can't do this anymore--not without you, Felix.