He didn't know how long he had been this way, but it had been long enough that it had become a life style. A way to live. A part of him. He would just let the feelings take him over. He would try to drink them away, but that only worked sometimes. Other times, he would get drunk, and it would get worse.
Maybe he needed help, but he just couldn't tell anyone. He wanted someone to know, but he didn't want them to worry. He wasn't ashamed, he just didn't want them doting over him, treating him like he was a child, stupid and unable to take care of himself. He didn't want them to know that he had once scratched himself so hard, over and over again, that he had broken the skin. And that he had like the pain. That he cut himself in an attempt to find relief. That he got into fist fight just to feel something. That he silently cried himself to sleep every night. That he thought that he was a complete failure, and had no purpose in his life. That he thought that the world would be better off with out him. That he wished he was dead. That he wanted to kill himself.
That was the only thing that he couldn't do. He could stop terrorists, but he couldn't kill himself. Some people thought that it took weakness to kill you, but he knew it took strength. Strength to make the decision to take your life, to end your world. But it was strength he didn't have. He had tried, but he just couldn't do it. He was weak. He was worthless. He was disgusting by himself.
The worst part was that no body knew. After living with it like he did, he had learned how to hide it. How to have it look like he was fine, like nothing was wrong. Sometimes he slipped, but he played it off as being tired, or that he wasn't feeling good and everyone beloved him. They all had no clue that some times he would break down in the bathrooms, crying so hard he would make himself vomit, but never making a sound.
Somebody once told him that tomorrow was a new day, but he knew that that was a lie, at least for him it was. Tomorrow was just another today, another day of hating himself, another day of unbearable pain, another day he didn't want to live. Tomorrow, was just another day of feeling this way.