I want to die. It's not a metaphor, it's a genuine feeling. I don't feel like healing from this, I just feel like plainly giving in and dying, to be over with it all. I want the sweet release of death. I want to lie somewhere, my brain releasing the last blast of endorphins to get me high, then my brain letting go of all shit and piss as I'm done with it all. It's a turning point in my life, because I wanted to die in a dignified way, and now I don't care if I die whilst drowning in my piss. 

As if my suffering hasn't been intense enough, I am spastically checking Annabelle's Instagram. Joke's on me, 'cause her profile is private and I don't even use Instagram, so the only thing I can see are her followers count and the display picture, which is just a silhouette of her in the sunset. 

From time to time, things improve. By that, I mean I get better and then worse, then better again and then completely crash down in the span of ten minutes. I don't know how long I've been here at work. I don't know how much longer I need to sit here and feel bad about myself. And I certainly don't want to look at the clock, I don't think I'd survive a heart attack on top of everything that's happened. 

For the time of being while I'm actually working, even if it's just reading an e-mail, I feel better. Not exactly feel good and happy, but numb is way better than feeling like absolute trash. 

This brings me to my next theory: being a psychopath must be fucking great. You don't feel shit and you can do whatever you want because it won't hurt you. All those people that say 'oh, but that's like living a life without seeing colours, it's not the full experience', lemme ask you: do you even know it if you haven't experienced it yet? No. So, it's great. 

I immediately know I'd get a lot of contradictions for that statement, especially from Annabelle, and for a moment my mood lifts up. I can clearly visualise her appalled expression, the inability to comprehend what did I just say or how could I even say it. Then she'd probably drop or make a joke about me being bored in the ethics class and finding it useless. 

The next thing that hits me again is utter despair and pain. I feel the agony slowly starting to knot in my stomach and then growing and enlarging, reaching out with its tentacles like an octopus across my body, pulling me down until I'm completely swamped. 

Again, I'm brought back to my original thought: I'd like to be a psychopath. 

I don't know what I dread more - being here or having to go back home. I can somehow get busy here, even if it only means I'll sit in my chair and feel sorry for myself, at least I can throw a quick look at some of the models people have sent me. What the hell am I gonna do once I get home? I can't work because Devon will probably want to play or cuddle or cry, and I relate to the last two options. Every second that I will spend with Devon and I'll do something wrong or Devon won't respond to something as little babies should, it will all serve as a quick reminder that I suck at this and Annabelle didn't. 

Let's be honest, no matter what I look at, it all reminds me of her. On my way to work, there was a song on a radio that was playing when Annabelle went with me to Aidan's birthday party. I saw someone from another department having a birthday and others bringing him a cake, and of course that reminded me when I met Annabelle for the first time. When I look at the plans and how much work I have, I'm taken back to when she decided to help me out when I was, like old British ladies say it, in a bit of a pickle! A mere look at my car sent me spiralling because the red colour reminded me of her hair. 

I don't know if it's some sick joke of the universe to send everything that has at 1% of chance to trigger me, or if the problem is in me, but, boy, it's pretty damn effective, and I haven't been able to think straight. 

It's like I'm going insane. I'm not sure if I could speak to other people without going all weird on them because my thoughts keep trailing to how I feel and how I made her feel. It's not because of stuttering, though that has a role in this. What I'm hinting at here, is something completely different. 

Let's imagine there's a meeting and I need to tell them about new features of a few clogs or whatever. I can bet that if someone will ask me: 'do you think it will work with that?', I would answer with: 'Will it? I don't know, man! You see this face? You see it? This hasn't slept in quite a while! Yet, I'm here working. But you know what's definitely not working? Me being a good guy to that one woman I really liked! But clogs are quite different, aren't they? You know what they don't have? Feelings, emotion, turbulence! So, to answer your question, sir! ... Yeah, the clogs will work.' 

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised. I've been pushed far enough to lose it like that. Then maybe Jed or Lenart would call me to the office to give me another friendly advice and tell me maybe it'd be for the best if I never came close to this company ever again. 

I see Austin outside of my office, and guess what? He introduced me to Annabelle. 

"You busy?" He asks as he peeps in with a smile that makes me both angry, envious and even sadder. 

Yeah, busy feeling sorry for myself. 

"C-come in."

He plops on one of the chairs and takes a relieved sigh. Life must really be going in the right direction for him. "I wanted to ask you to have lunch with me, but you look like shit." 

For the first time in that day I actually chuckle. Finally, someone doesn't treat me like a broken toy, and getting that kind of talk from Austin makes me feel normal, like things didn't completely plummet down as of recently. 

"Honestly, I feel like one." 

Austin's been used to all kind of shit from me, but never that I'd ever be particularly vocal about my troubles. Sure, I'd tell him and trust him with stuff, but I'm not really a person that shares information about his private life that much. Some people can't shut up about it, and I won't talk about it. People are either happy that someone is doing worse than them, or they think you deserve it. 

"What happened? Something with the kid?"

I can see it in his eyes how unsure he is about this conversation. He's not exactly used to me needing a shoulder to cry on. Even when that thing with Patty happened, I'd calmly and rationally tell him about it. Now, I'm here before him getting emotional all over. 

"The kid is fine. For now. If I'll... handle it." 

"Handle what?"

It's hard to roll it off my tongue. If I tell him, he'll tell Caitlin, she'll tell who knows who, and it will all lead back to Annabelle. That can only result in her being even more angry with me than she is now. And wasn't I the one being particularly vocal about not getting attached to anyone, and now I'm the one crying about a woman? 

"Austin..." I can't finish the sentence and not because of my stuttering problems, but because of everything I want to say. 

It's like... It's like if I say it out loud, it all becomes real. I know it happened, I know I screwed it up, but maybe I could pretend, even if just for a while longer, I'd take that chance. I know Annabelle would ignore all my calls and messages, but if I say that it out loud that that's because I was acting like a douchebag and I hurt her in unimaginable ways... Then that becomes real. Too real. 

Austin waits for me to get back on track. He is patient like that. Could be that he's still trying to process that maybe I'll actually tell him what's bothering me and he's preparing a series of replies in advance. 

"See the thing is that... I..." As I progress to talk and get more than just his name out of my throat, Austin's eyes grow bigger and more concerned - he knows I'm screwed up. "I have uh... feelings for Annabelle." 

Not going to lie... Not going to lie... Saying that did not hurt. It was strangely liberating. Relieving. A huge weight has been put off my shoulders, nonetheless, everything else that I want to tell Austin is still lingering above my head like a stormy cloud. But I truly imagined that simply admitting to someone that maybe I'm interested - romantically interested in a woman  was gonna be demanding and it'll take its toll on me. I guess it did, but in a good way. Can something take a toll on you in a good way? 

Austin doesn't seem surprised at the news, but actually relieved as well. Did suddenly everyone know about my feelings except me? 

"Oh," he says, and that's also the only thing he says. 

"What do you mean 'oh'?" 

"I mean, jeez, I thought something went to hell, that your kid's gonna be paraplegic for life or that Patty wanted to seduce you, I don't know," he jokes, but he continues with a different thought: "That's not so bad, is it? You should tell her how you feel, man. I wouldn't be surprised if she'll say she feels the same way." 

You have no idea. 

I press my lips together, and it could easily be perceived as a very comical gesture, but I do that merely to bite my lip very hard without Austin noticing how self-destructive I've become. "Actually, about that... I kind of did." 

"What? Without talking to me first?" 

"No offence, but given your relationship with Caitlin, I wasn't exactly confident about confiding in you." I sigh and run my hands over my face - sadly, I can't pull it off and scream it bloody agony. "Anyway, it went wrong. Really, really, really wrong. I got jealous, she got mad, I got cocky, she, again got mad, and then I told her I like her. And she said she likes me too, but I said I don't want a relationship, but that I want her not to be in any relationship." 

Austin glares at me, clearly confused, and finally lifts up a hand. "Hold up, what exactly happened?" 

I give him a more insightful explanation. He has to stop me a couple of times so I get back on track, since I keep reeling off - exactly what I mentioned earlier about going insane - but other than that, I give him more or less a quite reliable narrative of what's come to pass. Needless to say, he is quite speechless. 

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" 

I just might be. 

"I didn't exactly have time to prepare any of it, if you haven't noticed."

"Right, so ask her to become your personal booty call? That's why every dude out there prepares all of the answers, 'cause otherwise he might say something like what you said to her. Is that what you're saying?"

"Austin," I whimper. "I know I fucked up. And now I feel bad. So, be a friend and make me feel better about it, okay?" 

He shakes with his head slowly, "I can't and I don't have to. I'm not Annabelle and your words you told her hurt me. I can't imagine what it must be like for her. You've always been the one to run with different women, and you were almost offended when I wanted to stop with it, and now you've, I think, gotten it worse than me. And Annabelle is an adorable sweetheart, why couldn't you pick a Karen to break her heart or something? Besides you'll be fine sooner or later. You always are. There's no need for me to give you pep-talk." 

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

Austin lifts both of his brows, actually more surprised at that than at everything else I've told him. "For real? Whenever you liked a particular woman, you'd feel a bit sad, maybe overwhelmed, then you'd go to a club, be in a threesome or did it with three girls one after another, and you were fine."

Yeah, but... 

"I don't feel okay, Austin. I'm not just bummed out." 

"You never were, but you always said 'if you have a problem with a girl, find another one, or four, to solve it'." Austin looks like he couldn't worry less. 

Maybe that should be my take on it. Obviously having a fight and arguing aren't something you can process stress-free. I'm clearly shaken up, Devon is shaken up, we're all shaken up, and maybe that's all that there is. Maybe I really will be fine. 

Austin gets up from the chair, 'cause apparently our conversation is over, and with his hands in his pockets says: "Don't worry, Nathan. Annabelle is just another girl." 

A/N: Nathan sure knows how to handle his problems, but is Austin's advice justifiable and truly the best piece of advice he can give to Nathan?

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~Blackie