The curtains stay closed, and the scent of body odour is nowhere to be found and yet my body is found sprawling on the bed as it had been for days. Glasses upon glasses now empty which used to be filled to the brim with water are now laid out all across the floor and on counter tops, desk tops and any flat surface where they didn't tip over.

 My body did not stink, but the clothes and blankets did. It smelled almost as bad as a high school or elementary school gym did, which was practically the scent of death itself. It was musty, so warm and overbearing sometimes I would wonder to myself if one day someone would find me dead because I had overheated. 

There isn't much left of me though, so by the time one of my so called friends came to visit would I have really been there or just a pile of bones. I've lost so much weight, and the bags under my eyes look like bruises in circles, it's not too much of a pretty sight.

 Time goes on without me I barely even know whether it's night or day now, I don't get up much to move around or brush my teeth, or hair, or take a shower. My hair is flat from all the grease, and it's now dawning on me that I probably do smell absolutely wretched but it's just that I'm used to the scent.

 If I would have been any worse off, Rob would probably swoop in and save my sorry ass along with calling some cops and a therapist. It wouldn't be the first time, I've seen the situation in relationships, friendships and even family affairs where one of the sideline characters snap and call anyone they can so they can help someone. 

I never understood it though. If you had enough of them moping around, why not cut it off at the very beginning in the first place? The roots wouldn't have spread, they wouldn't be starving themselves, and nothing would be crumpling and instigating and rebelling the way it was compared to the beginning. 

It's a cop out to say they didn't know, the signs were clear and obvious. Most were just too busy or didn't care. Kind of like my situation actually.... I've kept myself on my bed for the last...How long was it?....I don't remember. I really don't. Maybe if I had a clock in the room, I have my phone but...It's dead and has been dead after the first three days of locking myself up.

Mind you this predicament wasn't by mistake, it was by accident entirely. It started off just me wandering around my room and doing activities or reading books or even filming a couple of videos, I would come out and into the rest of my house every now and then but now I realise that it's so cold and lonely here it doesn't matter if I cross through it.

So I stayed inside my room more, like a teenager since I'm still close to being one, 22 years, only four years ago I was eighteen, only three years ago I was nineteen and only two years ago was when everyone thought I was dead and gone. Except for Mat, but, present day he's the one whose really dead and gone.

He didn't deserve it, Rob didn't deserve the situation, Jerome and Mitch shouldn't have deserved this either, neither should Lachlan, and neither should Vikk.....

I shouldn't have been such a slut.

I just wanted the cold to go away, the comfort to go away, I played my part being the person nobody likes, I played the pity role so everyone would keep me around, but now the whole thing is done and gone, and I'm left with the scraps.

Not even, crumbs. I believe I do deserve this, and that whatever comes comes. It's not the fact that I don't care anymore.

It's the fact that I'm so tired of trying.