I told y'all that I needed to be in a sufficiently cranky mood to write angst. And I am so here it goes.
I still don't own Digimon. Nor do I own any music mentioned.
// indicates song lyrics (Oy I keep coming closer and closer to a song fic)
Takeru's POV
I just didn't feel like getting out of the bed today. Didn't really see the point of it you know? Maybe if I stayed here long enough I would cease to exist. A world with out the pain or the increasing flashes of numbness. My mom had wanted me to do something or call some one. I just can't remember what it was. Doesn't matter. I 'm not important. All I am is trash that needs to be thrown out. Maybe I should throw myself out. The window would work. That would make an awful mess though. Blood and guts. I don't want someone to have to take the time to clean it up. I am just not worth it.
My "friends" have been trying to get me to do something with them all summer. I think that they may have noticed something. Dai has definitely noticed something. He keeps staring at me. Like I have a third leg (A/N: I have a sick sick mind) or my hair started to look like Taichi's. Which brings me to Yamato. Would he care if I died? Would any of them? They may miss the mask but they wouldn't miss me.
I stare at the ceiling and an odd feeling comes over my body. Is that hunger? I think to the last time I ate... was that yesterday or the day before? When was the last time my mom made time to come home? I'm not really sure but that is the last time I ate, I think. I get up and walk slowly to the kitchen. A few of my friends live there...
I go to the fridge and pull out a drink and sit down at the table. Nothing really appeals to my stomach. I feel as though if I put something in my stomach I would just throw it up. That would be entirely pointless. My vision strays to the knife drawer; I get up as if to take one out, but I remember I am out of bandages. I don't want anyone to find out my one release and take it away so I can't cut with out them... I sigh and move to my room to get my money, shoes and a hat.
I grab some cash and stuff it in my pocket. I put on my shoes and hat. If anyone I knew saw me they would think it odd if I left with out that stupid hat. I can't remember why I stared to wear it in the first. As an after thought, I get out my Discman so I won't be required to walk to any one. I seize the first CD I can find. I snort. Linkin Park. For some reason depressing songs have appealed to me lately. I think, 'Am I depressed?' I shake my head I am not depressed. I am acknowledging the real me.
// Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending
Controlling, I can't seem
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence, I'm convinced there's just to much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before, so insecure//
Moving my head slightly to the beat, I walk out the door and to the elevator. As I walk out the door I notice a strange group walking in to the building where Yamato's apartment is. He wanted to live closer to me. The last time he came to visit was three months ago and he never calls. The only way I know what is going on in my dear over protective oniichan's life is if I ask Taichi. Back to the point, in walk Taichi, Yamato and Daisuke. Tears come to my eyes; no one told me he was coming home. There is a funny ache in my chest, which I rub absent-mindedly. Biting back a sob, I run back into the building. Back up the stairs. Back to my room, to the only place that is mine. I fall to the floor and wrap my arms around my legs and rock back and forth. I mumble over and over, "Its true no one loves me, no one cares. I just can't take it anymore."
I stand up resolved. I go to the kitchen and pick up a large serrated knife. I turn on my music as loud as possible. One line repeats itself in my head as I run the knife over my wrist.
// Why cry when angels deserve to die?//
A/N- *Looks at self * Now where did that come from. I mean I knew I was in a bad mood but that is totally pushing it. Read, Review, ect... Oh yeah, I won't write any more unless I get at least 3 more reviews. Wow that is my longest part ever. I was worried I couldn't think of anything to write.
I still don't own Digimon. Nor do I own any music mentioned.
// indicates song lyrics (Oy I keep coming closer and closer to a song fic)
Takeru's POV
I just didn't feel like getting out of the bed today. Didn't really see the point of it you know? Maybe if I stayed here long enough I would cease to exist. A world with out the pain or the increasing flashes of numbness. My mom had wanted me to do something or call some one. I just can't remember what it was. Doesn't matter. I 'm not important. All I am is trash that needs to be thrown out. Maybe I should throw myself out. The window would work. That would make an awful mess though. Blood and guts. I don't want someone to have to take the time to clean it up. I am just not worth it.
My "friends" have been trying to get me to do something with them all summer. I think that they may have noticed something. Dai has definitely noticed something. He keeps staring at me. Like I have a third leg (A/N: I have a sick sick mind) or my hair started to look like Taichi's. Which brings me to Yamato. Would he care if I died? Would any of them? They may miss the mask but they wouldn't miss me.
I stare at the ceiling and an odd feeling comes over my body. Is that hunger? I think to the last time I ate... was that yesterday or the day before? When was the last time my mom made time to come home? I'm not really sure but that is the last time I ate, I think. I get up and walk slowly to the kitchen. A few of my friends live there...
I go to the fridge and pull out a drink and sit down at the table. Nothing really appeals to my stomach. I feel as though if I put something in my stomach I would just throw it up. That would be entirely pointless. My vision strays to the knife drawer; I get up as if to take one out, but I remember I am out of bandages. I don't want anyone to find out my one release and take it away so I can't cut with out them... I sigh and move to my room to get my money, shoes and a hat.
I grab some cash and stuff it in my pocket. I put on my shoes and hat. If anyone I knew saw me they would think it odd if I left with out that stupid hat. I can't remember why I stared to wear it in the first. As an after thought, I get out my Discman so I won't be required to walk to any one. I seize the first CD I can find. I snort. Linkin Park. For some reason depressing songs have appealed to me lately. I think, 'Am I depressed?' I shake my head I am not depressed. I am acknowledging the real me.
// Crawling in my skin
These wounds they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self-control I fear is never ending
Controlling, I can't seem
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence, I'm convinced there's just to much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before, so insecure//
Moving my head slightly to the beat, I walk out the door and to the elevator. As I walk out the door I notice a strange group walking in to the building where Yamato's apartment is. He wanted to live closer to me. The last time he came to visit was three months ago and he never calls. The only way I know what is going on in my dear over protective oniichan's life is if I ask Taichi. Back to the point, in walk Taichi, Yamato and Daisuke. Tears come to my eyes; no one told me he was coming home. There is a funny ache in my chest, which I rub absent-mindedly. Biting back a sob, I run back into the building. Back up the stairs. Back to my room, to the only place that is mine. I fall to the floor and wrap my arms around my legs and rock back and forth. I mumble over and over, "Its true no one loves me, no one cares. I just can't take it anymore."
I stand up resolved. I go to the kitchen and pick up a large serrated knife. I turn on my music as loud as possible. One line repeats itself in my head as I run the knife over my wrist.
// Why cry when angels deserve to die?//
A/N- *Looks at self * Now where did that come from. I mean I knew I was in a bad mood but that is totally pushing it. Read, Review, ect... Oh yeah, I won't write any more unless I get at least 3 more reviews. Wow that is my longest part ever. I was worried I couldn't think of anything to write.