Misc.

boy stuck 3

mental illness was a gross thing. he hated even calling it mental illness; it felt like such a juvenile word. mental illness was what he would see plastered on the walls in the school guidance counselors office. or at the psychiatric hospital in the waiting room. not that he had even seen the word in years. he only thought of it now as he sat in his bathroom, waiting for the next wave of nausea to send him keeling over the toilet bowl. what happened? he thought, what did you do to yourself? he used to have a 96 average. he wanted to go study astrophysics and quantum mechanics, but here he was, sick for the third time that week, probably dying. he figured, it was the depression that made him drop out. not cutesy 13 year old depression. he remembers not even being able to get up, sleeping away days upon days. he lost 10 pounds in two weeks. it wasn't like his parents cared, they were too busy getting drunk. then he found his dad's weed stash and for a few minutes, the clouds were lifted. a few precious minutes. but clouds were soon replaced with thunderstorms and the weed lost its effect. a few months later, he found himself at the bottom of the barrel, at a bar getting so high he couldn't even see land anymore. he tried everything. adderall, cocaine, acid, meth,  alcohol, sex, sex while on drugs, nothing felt like a perpetual fix, and he was too stupid to recognize that. 

one night, someone gave him a needle and he had his first experience with heroin. he thought he'd found the answer to his problem. he finally felt like everything, the sheer disgust in his body, the rashes on his cheeks from crying and wiping it away so much, the drudgery of living, the will to throw himself off of a bridge, everything stopped. 

everything stopped and Aspect floated.

he threw up again.

his face was sweaty and he hallucinated. Zero was next to him, telling him it was going to be okay. soothing him. Aspect started crying, leaning his head against the wall. he whimpered for Zero to go away. 

"fine." a gun to the mouth and a shot rang out. Aspect screamed and shot forward onto the floor. the empty floor where nothing really lay because it was all in his head. 

he didn't know when he fell asleep, but he did, and when he woke, he was on his couch, a cold cloth on his forehead, and someone was in his kitchen.

"hello?" he called out, sitting up, delirious. he didn't feel sick anymore, but everything felt hot and clammy, and nothing made sense. oscar walked out.

"hey. you're awake. thank god."

"what are you doing here."

"i came to check up. it's been a week and you hadnt said anything. i found you passed out in the bathroom. what did you do?" he asked, coming over.

what did you do?

aspect didn't know.

he shrugged and started trembling, tears springing into his eyes.

"i just- i don't- i was out of dope- i can't get any more- and i don't want any more but i need it. oscar i need it so bad." he whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks." 

oscar came to sit on the arm of the couch and aspect leaned his head on oscars leg, crying silently. he noticed his place was cleaner and in his state of pure delirium remembered oscar couldn't stand a messy place. he smiled a little to himself and glaze came over his eyes, the pain suddenly subsiding, permanently this time.