Trigger Warning: Self-image issues, self-harm and other things ahead. You've been warned.
Search for the answers I knew all along
I lost myself,
we all fall down.
He believed he was lower than dirt. Just, a complete and utter failure who was left to be stepped on by each and every thing walking this planet's thin crust. He felt he could never do anything right, ever since the one person who he once loved with all of his now scarred heart picked up his emotions and threw them to the ground with no qualms whatsoever, before - with a smug visage - brutally smashing him down to his knees, his head in his hands, with pieces of his life falling to the ground around him. The significant shards of his personality shattered, just like glass would when plummeting towards a tough surface. His world collapsed on top of him, just as tears stained his cheeks due to frustration and shock. Unhappiness soared exponentially, regret coated the floor. Sorrow coloured the once joyous chocolate brown orbs just as mistiness wasn't foreign to the cold ocular devices.
She'd kicked him when he was already down, and she did it with a twisted smirk. She spat on his worth, pulled out his best just to stomp on it. Maybe the worst of all these things, she'd robbed his affection, and then ran off with obviously no knowledge as to what she'd just done to him.
She had broken him.
She had pulled the life out of him.
She had tortured him.
Yet he couldn't let her go.
Never the wiser of what I've become
Alone I stand,
a broken man.
He was scum. He knew he was. Why else was his world falling on him now, if he hadn't grown into this exact adjective? He was worthless, and he knew this all too well. He blamed himself for everything wrong in the world, for some petty reason that he knew in the back of his mind was ridiculous and mirthful to even put trust in. Maybe if I see the error in my ways, she'll come back.
But she wasn't going to come back, however he couldn't accept this truth- to him it was a lie. For days on end after everything started falling down his heart ached, his head throbbed, his stomach turned, and his work suffered. It felt as if all happiness died within him, and the thought of that being even slightly true made him feel ill.
He threw up constantly due to anxiety, and even began seeing himself as unacceptable, and ugly. You're disgusting, he called himself when he looked at his figure in the mirror. Soon enough he began to starve himself. She has to come back soon... I'm starting to look much better now...
All I have is one last chance
I won't turn my back on you.
He caught himself spiraling aimlessly into a dark pit of rue, pity, and self-disgust, not to forget anger and grief. He progressively grew worse in appearance, and fell more in denial. He became an insomniac, grew thinner in his frame, and he didn't bother leaving his home; he stayed in his room and locked the door to be left alone for good. This caused him to lose contact with his friends, and stop recording videos for his job regarding a video website on the inter-webs. His coworkers tried to talk some sense into him through his door, yet the gloominess plus the damaged and warped view of self-worth around himself clouded his perception of things. His fans began wondering where he went after about two weeks with no videos being uploaded, and they soon began to ask around. Chatter was contagious, and rumours were spread around social networks, but he didn't care. Numerous posts on his dash and time-line went on about questioning where their 'senpapi' was, yet he didn't bother even opening up any type of internet browser to even acknowledge any of these things.
