it felt like he was about to choke.
it's nothing he would mind that much, though, as it was brought by his own selfishness;
his own feelings;
his, as others would call it, «obsession»;
he wasn't a stalker. rather, he was supposed to be a friend. and he thought he was.
but he hid underneath the mask, and he knew that the mask his friend wore was unattainable to him; they were supposed to be best friends, no, the bestest of friends.
but he didn't need him anymore. he probably understood it long before it was told to him; he wasn't necessary for him to live; he wasn't needed for him to recover from this trauma.
he was being left behind.
but he was afraid of catching up to him; seeing as he's not the only one. probably no longer the closest one too.
and so it hurt. and he was afraid.
it was eating him up, slowly killing him.
he could overcome it if he tried; everyone told him that.
but, why would he try?
would it even show some results?
where should he find the energy to do so?
this so called «obsession»
that seemed to be written along with depression right by its side.
YOU ARE READING
ONE SHOTS
RandomShort stories, one shots written with my poor English. I may write one shots with characters from anime, but some may be my own.
