Stan climbed up onto his roof one clear spring night, lying on his back as he gazed up at the millions of stars and planets in the sky. He took a deep breath, a tear falling down his cheek.
Where did it all go wrong? He thought to himself, taking a deep breath. Why is it happening again and again? Why do I feel so hollow?
Usually when his friends are mad at him, they try to work things out, but this time is different. All he gets from them now are judgmental glares and the cold shoulder.
"What did I do wrong?" Stan mumbled to himself, the beautiful night sky becoming blurry as more and more tears began to fall. He shut his eyes tight, covering his eyes with his arms. His sweater was becoming damp with tears.
His grandfather was dying, the only person in his family he could ever talk to. His mom and dad are fighting constantly, possibly about inheritance, and his sister is never home anymore. Through all of it, he thought his friends would be there to see him through it. To guide him through the pain that he's experiencing.
No.
They shut him out of their lives for good this time. He's nothing but an empty shell walking through the halls. Everyone is leaving him behind. He's too much of a burden for anyone to handle anymore. He can't help but feel as if it's best to be alone, but at the same time, he's terrified of isolation.
Stan cried into his hands, shaking and sobbing. He can't take this pain. The whole world is pressing down on his chest, ripping his heart to shreds.
"Why...why do I always fuck shit up? What did I do wrong, Kyle?" He whispered to himself, sitting up and hugging his knees to his chest.
"Why am I even here?" He looked up at the sky again, feeling his heart ache as he stared up at the full moon luminating light.
Where did it all go wrong? Why do I feel so lost? Why is it that every time I look up at the stars, I feel like I don't belong here?
Well, it's hard to feel a sense of belonging when you're not wanted.
"Stanley! Dinner!" He heard his mom call him in following by more screaming from his drunken dad. Everyone is falling apart. His whole family is splitting in two at this point.
Stan sighed, wiping his tears off of his face with his black sweater again before climbing back down through his window. He straightened up a little, looking in his mirror to double check. He grimaced at the pale, thin, fragile looking boy staring back at him in a now oversized hoodie and black shorts. He hated looking at himself in the mirror.
He swung his door open, going down the flight of stairs and slowly sitting down at the once full dinner table. His dinner was already put on a plate for him. His eyes grew at the size of the plate and how much pasta his mom put in front of him. His mom looked at him through the doorway of the kitchen, holding a towel in her hands and looking just as awful as he does.
"Eat your dinner, sweetie. You're getting too thin." She spoke softly, giving Stan a small smile. Stan glanced up at his mom before grabbing his fork, he took a small bite of the pasta. He didn't feel hungry one bit but he knew if he sat there picking at his food his mom would shove the whole plate down his throat.
Suddenly the door to the garage slammed open. Randy stumbled in, chugging the rest of his beer before crumbling it up and throwing it onto the ground.
"I'm going to Nelson's." Randy shouted at her, grabbing his coat.
"Fine! Goodbye!" His mom yelled, chucking his keys at him. They hit his chest but he caught them before they could fall to the ground. "Get the fuck out of my house!" She called as she went up the stairs.
"Fucking bitch!" He screamed back before slamming the front door. Stan felt another tear well up when he heard his moms bedroom door slam. Everything around him is falling apart in pieces and there's nothing he can do to stop it.
He picked at his food some more, but didn't take another bite. Instead, he got up and threw away what was left before going up the stairs into his room.
He's only 16, yet he feels as if his life is coming to an end. All he can do is cry himself to sleep at night and avoid everyone when he works up the courage to go to school.
Stan laid down on his bed, his knees bent as he gripped at his thighs. He dug his fingernails into his skin as he felt another crying spell happening. That's all he ever does anymore. Cry. That's all he can do.