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Melancholia
Jul. 18th, 2020 12:23 pmHe pulls the covers up over his head when the light from the halls fills into the darkness of his room. He did not hear the question. So he does not acknowledge it was asked of him. He only knows he needs the comfort of the dark tonight. He does not have the strength or will to even move. His head is hurting from the noises the street below. His heart is racing. If he was mortal he would feel clammy but he is not so instead feels the coldness drift through his veins. He does not know why he is depressed nor does he really dwell upon it. He just accepts the melancholy like an old friend.
Why the melancholy always finds him he does not know. He is sure he deserves it as it seems to be his best friend lately. Guilty thoughts zoom in and out of his mind. He knows everyone only tolerates him. He has always been broken and can feel the weight of every year he has been alive on his shoulders. The weight holding him down in his bed.
He shivers as he burrows under the safety of the blankets. I am just another dead thing, he thinks, this is where I belong. It is what I deserve. I deserve to be alone and isolated. He feels lightheaded from lack of feeding the past few nights. He enjoys the feeling as much as he hates it. A kind of high in his low period. Denying himself what he needs most- blood. He does not have the energy to open his mouth, even if he had heard them speaking over his chaotic thoughts. He used all his strength when he hid himself from the light. Times like these the light is his enemy. He needs this dark. He shivers then stills wishing the world would shut up. His hands covers his ears. He can still hear it all now. He hates this modern world. He scoots deeper into his soft bed ignoring the world.
Why the melancholy always finds him he does not know. He is sure he deserves it as it seems to be his best friend lately. Guilty thoughts zoom in and out of his mind. He knows everyone only tolerates him. He has always been broken and can feel the weight of every year he has been alive on his shoulders. The weight holding him down in his bed.
He shivers as he burrows under the safety of the blankets. I am just another dead thing, he thinks, this is where I belong. It is what I deserve. I deserve to be alone and isolated. He feels lightheaded from lack of feeding the past few nights. He enjoys the feeling as much as he hates it. A kind of high in his low period. Denying himself what he needs most- blood. He does not have the energy to open his mouth, even if he had heard them speaking over his chaotic thoughts. He used all his strength when he hid himself from the light. Times like these the light is his enemy. He needs this dark. He shivers then stills wishing the world would shut up. His hands covers his ears. He can still hear it all now. He hates this modern world. He scoots deeper into his soft bed ignoring the world.
