Better in the Morning

Part Four

He parked his car and sat in the parking lot for several minutes. There was no reason to get out and actually go to school. He didn't care whatsoever. He hadn't done any of his homework, he was too busy wallowing in self-pity, which seemed dumb now. He was already failing all of his classes, and there was no way he was going to bring up any of his grades before the end of the quarter.

He watched groups of people walk by, laughing and talking loudly. He didn't have that. A group of friends to connect with. He had one friend who had other friends beside him, who didn't have a lot of time for him. She didn't acknowledge his existence most days. Which was fine. He was used to that.

Placing his hand on the door handle, he opened the car door and exited. There were so many negative emotions that he didn't know what to do with. There was no way to release the sorrow that he felt, the pain, the hollowness, the worthlessness. It was tight in his chest and in his stomach like his anxiety was eating him from the inside out like a parasite.

He walked up to the school, feeling empty. There was no meaning for what he was doing and that made him feel useless. He wanted to go back to when he was young and ambitious, still wanting to live life to the fullest and get everything out of it. Or maybe what he wanted to do was the opposite, go back and end it before he could come to the realization that nothing really mattered.

He went through first, second, third, and fourth period, going through the motions of every day. By lunchtime, he was ready to cry. He was ready to burst into tears and tell everyone that he was not okay, that he needed help.

Instead, he found his best friend.

She sat by herself in the lunchroom, her other friends were nowhere to be seen. He thought about it before, is talking to her something that he would regret, or is it something that would make him feel better? He walked toward her.

She saw him before he was all the way to her and her face remained neutral. He took this as a sign that she did not want to talk to him but he continued anyway. Neither of them said anything as he took the seat next to hers.

"I can't handle it anymore," he said. 

She sighed, "I can't handle you anymore. Get over whatever it is that's botheingr you. I can't help you all the time, I am nowhere near qualified enough. Find someone who actually can and stop coming to me." it wasn't something that he wanted to hear. He wanted her to make him feel better.

He got up, legs shaking, breath staggering. She was his last hope. He had no one to turn to anymore.