When the Going Gets Rough

TW: suicide

I want to go back.

I need to go back.

I can never go back.

I wake up again, just like any other day. Except it's not. It shouldn't be, but it's not.

Nobody else remembers, not a soul.

That should be a good thing.

It's not.

It doesn't help me.

Even when I make progress, everything resets. Everyone forgets.

What's the point? I don't get it? Why do I. Even. Care.

Because it's important.

It's important and I hate it.

I need to go back.

But I can't.

Not yet, anyway.

Might as well accept it.

Why can't I accept it?

It would be easier if I could.

Maybe I could finally breathe again.

Not that strangled stuff that I conveniently call breathing. That I wish I could call breathing.

I haven't breathed for years.

I need to breathe again. I need friends again.

But what use is it when they are all slaughtered like cattle anyhow?

Over.

And over.

And OVER again.

Why do I need to go back? Why do I need to go back when I could just end it as soon as it begins?

These are questions that I ask myself all the time.

I could just end it.

But would that just be temporary convenience?

Would it be considered cowardice?

Suicide is convenient. Suicide might even be safe.

Why do I even hesitate?

My hand is holding the knife now. My hand is holding the wrist.

Why?

Why can't I do it?

It would be so easy to just cut it off. To just end it. End the agony. End the pain.

Why did I have to get lost? Why did I have to end up in this stupid timeline? I just want to go home.

But that would be too nice for me.

Too convenient.

So why do I hesitate at the thought of death?

What would it be like?

Would it feel warm and comforting?

Would it feel cold and oppressive?

Would it be scary?

Would I feel calm?

Would I slip?

Would I fall?

Would it feel right?

Would I fight it?

Would I accept it?

Mom found death. She even sought it.

Does it run in the family?

A good memory?

What I would give to live, forget, and live.

What I would give to be like the rest.

I would give my very soul to feel again.

To feel anything pain or otherwise.

I need to get out of bed now. If I don't, I'll just stay here and rot.

I can't die yet.

I need to go home.

I want more than anything to go home.

So I will.

Eventually.

Not today.

Never today.

I get out of bed and trudge through my mess of a room.

Disgusting.

I know. I don't clean anything anymore. The same days play over and over again. What's the point? I'll never know. I was always a sickly child. I still am sickly, I need to take my medicine. Who gives a damn about medication anyway? I walk past my bathroom and open the door of my room. Walking down the hall takes forever. I can't care anymore. I'm slow. I live with that fact.

I hate to admit it, but I need to buy some food and go to work today. I hate working. I love food. I have my priorities in order. But what does it matter? If I get fired, I'll just be hired again later. That's how it works. That's how it's always worked.

It never mattered anyway.

Things all blend together. Color, emotion, breathing, living. Nothing ever makes sense anymore. I used to be bright, optimistic, smart, happy.

Now I'm just dull, boring, pained, lost, sad.

And nobody remembers me being any different.

If I were acting this way in the first few timeline resets that have occured, everyone in the entire city would have noticed something wrong with me. I actually made friends back then with people, I actually talked and listened. I actually had a little bit of a life for myself.

What a fantasy long past.

Walking down the gray streets, looking haggard and worn like one of the many druggies roaming the streets, I make my way to my job. My job, more like a glorified money machine. Nothing of note ever happens today. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Day after day, week after week. Maybe even a couple of months 'till time does it's thing again.

Why does the time even loop? Why can't it just stay still and run its course? What is wrong with this world? What is happening?

Nothing matters except getting home and eating food.

All I want is a good home cooked meal again. All I want is to see my pa again. All I want is my family and my life back.

All I want is to feel again. All I want is love.

I want to remember with someone, many, not all alone.

I want to share my trials, even if it's selfish.

It never matters what I want. I keep walking. People avoid me like I'm walking roadkill. I might as well be, I certainly look the part. I see my work around the corner. I almost groan at the sight, but I keep it in and obediently walk inside.

I wonder what day it is? I wonder what he'll say today? One of my favorites is 'Howdy, bacon boot!' My boss actually noticed my condition and tries to help me live life on the topside. I like my boss. He's a nice man. I don't meet many nice men, mostly because I don't let them meet me by living my life as a secluded hermit.

----------------------------------------------------------------

I have no friends. Just boss. I call him boss, he tends to like that. I don't have a clue as to why he let's me call him boss if I want when everyone else calls him by his name, Martin. Maybe it's my condition. Maybe it's because I'm a bit bland and boring.

Nonetheless, he loves me like my pa would, and that makes me feel a little warmth in the cold of my heart everyday. He's important to me. He reminds me that my pa is probably looking for me right now, just like I'm looking for him.

Thanks, boss. You keep me going when the going gets rough.