Plenty of Wonders

A Cycle

Pairing(s): None- it's from Prince's perspective

Warnings: Severe depression/anxiety

Hi! This is my second (I think?) entry for the angst war with StarOfLightning I was going to write something else, but I was inspired by personal feelings (does that make sense?), and this is shorter.

However, that oneshot will be published at some point!

There is no prompt for this, so I hope you enjoy.
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Life was tiring.

And it was dull, and scary too.

Days became agonisingly long, and nights weren't long enough. Home wasn't home anymore. It became a place full of strangers. A place where he could no longer speak to anyone, or trust anyone.

Everyone seemed so busy. Nobody would speak to him, or check up on him. Therefore, they must have been busy, right?

Why was everything so dark?

It used to be so bright, and everywhere he looked, another idea! His home was amazing, and he was so proud of it. Unfortunately, something changed.

Where did the ideas go? Why was his light stolen away from him? Who had abandoned him in this shell of a place he had once called 'home'?

There was nowhere he could turn, nobody he could turn to, so he hid.

The curtains were drawn, the light of his phone was his only connection to those who were able to see sunlight. Why couldn't he? Yes, the curtains were drawn, but he could simply open them and watch as the world turned around him. There were people who he could learn from, who he could admire! Ideas! Everywhere was a new idea. A new idea. Just open the curtains. Open the curtains.

What was the point?

His room was no longer a sanctuary. It was a prison full of an invisible jury, dragging him through a list of every mistake he had ever made. Every person he had hurt. Every person who had hurt him. Every time he had embarrassed- no humiliated himself. Every time someone had pointed it out.

What if those mistakes returned to haunt him? Who would he turn to? Would he have anyone to turn to?

He didn't know. And he wasn't sure whether he wanted to.
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His room was so cold. It was so dark. When had that happened? What would happen if he just opened the curtains? Would this all fade away?

No, he wasn't so delusional. He had waited too long to make a move. It was too late for him to open the curtains. And if he did, so what?

What was light if life had dulled it to the flicker of a candle? How would he use such a small flame?

Then again, why not? Why not open the curtains? He was going to scream. Scream out of the window until someone-anyone-heard him!

His throat was burning when it happened. Tears cascading down his cheeks. Flesh raw as salty droplets trailed to the floor.

It wasn't his curtains, or his window, but it was his bedroom door that opened. A familiar face appeared through the icy darkness and he realised he had been heard. Someone was there!