living days 

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"Do you know what suicide days are?" he said to the empty wall in his room, vacant eyes unseeing and glazed. 

The silence in the room was thundering, tangible in its isolation. 

"They're early Mondays," he continued, tucking his legs underneath him as he leaned further into his chaise. "They're that random day of the month, that bad evening, that odd Saturday that isn't filled with sex and beer, you know?" 

The posters (he had put them up to make him feel less alone but all they succeeded in doing was remind him of all those better than what he was) stared back at him, and he stared back. "It's not fair. I want to get up and be happy and smile like there's nothing wrong, but there is, isn't there?" 

The music speakers in his room were making this room suffocating, and he had (needed) to fill the void of stillness in his room or he'd go insane (crazy). 

"What's in a therapist who doesn't give a damn? What's in a bunch of teenagers thinking it is cry for attention? What's in a world of mediocre imbeciles trying to be awfully dark when all I see is a world in black and white?" 

It was a spectrum of colours he tried to find again; he didn't enjoy the crushing absence of his happiness, the tremble in his fingers when he chugged a beer, the random girl in his bed who couldn't bring him ecstasy, the iron leaving burns in his chest as it attempted to soothe the wrinkles of distress cracking in his exterior. 

Scratching the emptiness out only made him feel slightly less numb; through false smiles and plastering masks so exotic that no one remembers to question why they're there. 

Biting his lip, he closed his eyes, feeling the weight of quiet. "It's like a migraine you can't massage. A broken bone you can't align. A fallen star that can't burn out in space any longer."  

His thoughts wandered (even though this was dangerous, he was told to take risks and listen, even if he had cut off his ears already, this crazy man). 

"Suicide days are awful. But I think today's good. I caught someone smiling in the park. A child buying a balloon. I forget how much wonder there is and that's where I have to look. Today's a good day, huh?" 

His thoughts agreed in their unconventional compassion.

"Today's a day to be happy to live," he grinned, and if he is a fallen star, he can still burn from where he is. "Today's a good day to be alive." 

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