First fic for Sword Art Online. Kirito centric, short, needed to write this.

When you're in a virtual world long enough, it becomes harder and harder to remember certain degrees of sensations. Sure, there's the breeze and the sun and the snow and they all feel real enough, at least from what I can recall. My fingers turn numb and stiff, sweat will bead and roll down my brow, my hair and coat flutter; all as close to those organic experiences as possible.

But it's not the same. Not quite.

When this all started, there was no reason for me, for anyone, to notice those subtle inconsistencies. I don't think anyone was supposed to be in this game long enough to notice.

For what would have been healthy amounts of time for game session, no one should have been able to note that cold drafts have a cyclical nature to them, like the tides of an ocean. That the temperature outside extreme hot or cold zones remains stubbornly at 74.4 degrees Fahrenheit, regardless of whether the sun is rising, setting, or just plain gone for the night. That your sweat won't burn your eyes as it slides down your face.

It's a numbing feeling, seeing these patterns in what are supposed to be random occurrences of nature.

I would even go so far as to say that it's frighteningly numbing.

It's easy not to notice or care or even let yourself be affected by such things when you have plenty to keep your mind busy with. For the most part, that is. It can be so easy to forget that this world, regardless of how beautiful and well-made it looks, is nothing but a series of zeros and ones dictated by coding.

But at night, when I'm home and in bed and alone with that terrible knowledge, that awful numbness engulfs me. It's so easy to act cool and collected in a crowd that doesn't know me. It's so easy to be as aloof in here as I was before this death game began.

But when it comes down to it, there's no hiding these facts from myself. It's hard to stifle sobs and keep my head on straight when I know I'm the only one there to witness my private moments of despair. It's easy to get confused in those moments. It's easy to reach for something sharp and tear into myself, focusing with all my might on the pain that I desperately need there.

I do this until there aren't any more tears I can spill for the night.

Rinse.

Repeat.

I'm always in a safe zone when this happens. It won't deplete my HP any. It's just pretend.

At night, when I'm alone and scared and there's no one who needs me to be their beacon of hope, it's easy to play pretend for a while.

It's just pretend. This whole world is just pretend. Doing what I do, digging into coded flesh that heals in an instance and hurts so little sometimes I wonder why I even bother, helps me forget again.

I need to keep going. I know that. It's just that some nights there's nothing I can do but keep myself from falling apart until I can sleep.

It's all pretend anyways. Harmless, self-inflicted pretending.

*Edit*

For those wondering where the idea of Kirito ever possibly being in this state of mind:

1) Episode 5, Kirito literally is so close to stabbing himself. Canonically, he is not beyond self-harm if the occasion should requires it.

2) Kirito would indeed be suicidal in his missions if in the right mind set, but self-harm in not usually about being suicidal. It's about keeping intense feelings at bay, about surviving. Kirito is all about surviving, even at his lowest of lows.

Thank you.