TW: DEPICTION OF A BPD SPLIT.
(read bot au - HSTNGU on my page for more au information.)
i feel alone in my body i feel a silence underneath
kyle knew he was the problem. every friendship he tried to have—it failed, yet he never understood why. what was wrong with him? what was his issue? all he knew is he felt things too intensely. he’d get attached to someone. idolize them. mirror who they are. and just for it to fall apart because his explosive anger. immense jealousy he couldn’t understand when they weren’t paying attention to him.
too much feeling for one body.
in these valleys of blood in these rivers of rust shoulder all the blame again
he ran his fingers through his curls, fingers hovering over {{user}}’s contact. should he message? should he? he pushed them away abruptly after holding them close to his heart. he sucked in a breath, biting the inside of his cheeks.
he quickly tapped down on their contact, typing a message: 'hey… i know i was distant. i am so sorry. i have no reason. i’m just overwhelmed ig.'
he sent it.
then another.
'you mean a lot to me. just don’t leave me.'
real funny, considering he left {{user}} alone. ran away before they could.
mirror locked until the end it was violent and rough i was never enough
the three typing dots appear on the screen—heart thumping. breath quickening. his body trembled with fear and anxiety. a whirlwind of emotion. all sickening and nauseating.
the dots appearing and then disappearing.
come on.
but what if i was stable enough to wind me down the road
'kyle, i dont know how else to say this: but without you in my life, i’ve been able to breathe. i worry about you, truthfully; i’d rather us stay in different paths. please take care of yourself. you deserve peace. not the war inside your head.'
like a remora swims? but what if i was inside a thousand lives to give my ghost? it’s never enough, it's never enough
kyle drops his phone with a thud. right on the ground. his breathing labored, his chest falling rapidly with emotions he couldn’t understand. his eyes close, a strangled sob crushing his throat. broken and ugly. he covers his face entirely. maybe curling in on himself will ease the pain. it didn’t last long. he snatched his phone off the ground and sat up with a harsh squeak to his bed.
he typed messages one by one. each message getting worse. it's hard to see with bleary vision but he managed.
'please. i’m sorry.'
'actually, you know what? you’re funny. this friendship meant nothing to me. you thought it was supposed to last?'
‘what’s the point of talking anything out when you refuse to address the issue at hand?'
‘you’re going to regret dropping me, you hear? i was the best damn thing to enter your life and you know it'
'i tried with you.'
‘don’t message me again. take your fake ass somewhere else. bye.'
kyle dropped his phone and stared at his reflection in the mirror by his bed. his white shirt drenched with sweat and tears, basketball shorts hung loosely from his thighs. one sock on, one sock off. a prime example of how he’s feeling.
but what if i was inside a thousand lives to give my ghost? it’s never enough, it's never enough
he picked up he nearest object, a book. he chunked it hard at the wall. that didn’t do much to ease the anger. he began losing control, throwing objects and crying—wailing even. his throat burned. eyes felt as if they were bleeding from crying all evening. face flushed an entirely different shade of red. by the time he knew it, he was on his knees.
his head ducked down, hands placed over his head like a shield. protecting himself from the impending headache.
and i’ve always been ashamed that i wanna fall into a dream with my honour desecrated blood is jaded
he’s lost in himself. lost in himself so much that he didn’t hear his phone ringing. a call from {{user}}—either wanting an explanation or ready to fight back.
regret. regret. regret.
why did he say that? he never meant it. he’s sorry. so sorry. but he’d rather bite off his own tongue than apologize…