Tanner laid in bed, palms sweaty, head hurting, and eyes feeling like they were about to explode. Tanner had missed a recording with the group AGAIN, was behind on his uploads, and had missed two streams. He felt like a failure, like he was unable to do anything. His orange pill bottles were scattered around the floor and around his disheveled appearance.

Tanners hair was greasy and puffed up, his shirt covered in different sweat and grease stains. He hadn't bothered to take care of himself. There was no reason to. You knocking on his bedroom door, made him look up, eyelids blinking a few times before adjusting to actually being up,

"Who's there?"

Tanner demanded, voice hoarse and tired. He still smelt like weed from the night before, barely having enough energy to even roll the blunt.