Another long sigh escaped Robert's lips, and a few more sniffles and hitched breaths. Just when he thought he ran out of tears for the night, his eyes welled up again. He was sitting on the edge of his bed and let a few tears fall on the ground between his feet before wiping his eyes with his grey, NYPD sweatshirt sleeves, leaving behind dark splotches. He covered his face with his hands and tried to stop, but he just couldn't. He let out a small sob, careful to be quiet so his parents wouldn't hear him. He sighed again.
It was another one of those nights. And just like every other night, he asked himself the same questions. "What's wrong with me?" He wiped his eyes again. "Why am I so lonely? Why do I always screw up everything I do?" He laid back on his bed and stared at the dim yellow circle of light on the ceiling made by the lamp on his nightstand. "Am I really THAT unlikable? I know I'm weird... kind of annoying. But is it that bad? Maybe I am... I'm just a nuisance." He sighed a third time.
"But I shouldn't think like that!" he told himself. "I shouldn't be laying here, crying like a child!"
"...But I am... and I shouldn't be!" he internally shouted at himself and sat back up. "You have a decent family, with a roof over your head, and you're never hungry," he reminded himself.
But you'll never find love.
"You do good work as a police officer," he tried to convince himself.
But not great. There's a thousand other cops who could do a better job than you.
He tried to tell himself good things, comfort himself. He tried, but he just couldn't stop himself from feeling so empty. He didn't know what he could do to fill that void in himself. He knew it was probably just loneliness, and that he was just missing his soul mate, someone to love him. Although, he was pretty sure by now that he didn't have a soul mate. Every relationship he had was just wrong. Things never ended well. But he figured he was the common denominator. He was probably the one ruining everything. Of course...
And his police work? Hell, his partner, Judy, was always the one doing the actual good work. He was just lucky to be of help to her. But... "what does that leave me?" He wondered.
He sat in silence for a while. Then, slowly, leaned over, opened the night stand drawer and eyed his police-issued handgun. He stared at it for a minute, then quickly shut the drawer.
Lord knows he held the gun to his temple more than once. Each time, he was too scared to pull the trigger. Plus, he thought it would be too selfish of him to do it in his parents' house. He couldn't do that to his poor mother. He smirked when he thought of doing it when he and his ex-wife were still together. He thought it was morbidly funny imagining her mad because his blood stained their expensive duvet or, God forbid, the carpet. He came extremely close to doing it then. He always thought maybe he could do it if he just went way out into the forest somewhere. He would just... disappear. He laid down again, trying to calm his mind.
The thought strangely comforted him and saddened him at the same time. He knew if he had the guts to do it, he wouldn't be a burden to everyone anymore. He wouldn't hold Judy back from doing great things, getting promoted, doing meaningful work. He knew his Ma would be worried, but Raymond would be there to comfort her, and after a while he would be pretty much forgotten about. Maybe they'd think he ran away to another state or another country or something. His dad would say "good riddance!" and after a month, Raymond would forget he even had a brother to begin with. Ma would finally be able to give all her attention to Ray and the grandkids.
Robert planned it all out in his head. He would say he's going on a camping trip. He'd find a nice, serene, secluded spot in the wilderness. Somewhere quiet and beautiful. Peaceful. He didn't want to disturb the surrounding nature too much by using his gun. Too loud. Maybe he'd bring pills. He could easily get some from the evidence lock-up. He would just nod off under a tree near a stream, the sounds of nature gently lulling him to sleep.
Robert dried his eyes on his sleeves again then yawned. His eyelids were puffy and heavy and his mind had been calmed imagining the beauty of nature. He flicked off the bedside lamp, pulled the covers over himself, and closed his eyes. He imagined sitting under that tree, on a soft patch of moss next to the stream. The sounds of birds chirping and the trickling of the water over rocks eased his weary mind as he drifted off to sleep.
