There's an aching in his chest, so unbelievably deep. It's cutting and it stings and it burns and it throbs and it makes him want to just tear it out, get it out and be done with it. He doesn't know, he doesn't know.
He just doesn't.
His bones shake, his muscles shake, everything shakes, except for his joints. His joints have locked up oh so tight and he can't move them, it hurts and he's afraid of, of everything. There's no way to pin down a narrower, more definitive answer because there just isn't one. It's everything, it's overwhelming and it's agony all of the time. How do people cope? How do they manage, they treat it as though it's, maybe not easy, but they definitely make it out to be far easier than he's finding it.
What does he want to? God, he doesn't know, he just has no idea. He's not passionate about anything, he doesn't care about anything. But he wants to do something, he knows he needs to. But there's nothing, he can't do anything he enjoys because he doesn't enjoy anything. Anything but this, he knows, but any suggestions are met with unenthusiastic, 'I don't minds,' and 'I couldn't care less.'
How to people know? It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair but life wasn't fair and he just happened to be too indecisive, too-
Too careless, too dispassionate, too bored, too tired, too angry.
He wanted to die.
He honest to God, wish that he would just die, but he couldn't.
Now that's where life was truly unfair. Issues he knew where his own fault, things he could deal with if he cared, but he just didn't.
(But he really, really did)
But this, now this was just fate's biggest dick move to screw him over.
"Fuck you," He murmurs at the black ghost, "Fuck you."