Trigger warning for s--c-de, d--th, and other topics that may be disturbing to some audiences. Proceed with caution.133Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvjcaGShxQb
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I decided to leave this here for the sake of those who wonder why this happened. I’m ready to say that, and I always have been. I’ve been waiting for years to reach the breaking point, and I think I finally have. As some may know, I am “Gifted.” It’s useless. I don’t see anything more than the dumb emotions of people around me. What’s it to me if someone had a bad day? I don’t need any of that to topple on top of me too. I never had any intention of helping people. I can’t see what they’re thinking, what made them that way. Only how they feel. It does nothing more than poison my brain, builds envy. And a drawback? I can’t seem to find a purpose in this world. There’s probably something wrong with me, but I never bothered to check. There’s no solution for us, anyways. If only I was gifted in a better way. Something with benefits. Something that didn’t prevent me from feeling the joys that everyone feels in everyday life. That’s why. I lost everything, and I don’t intend on gaining it back either. My existence was pretty pointless.
I apologize if I was a bother in any way, but I really don’t care whether I was or not. Just saying it for the sake of being a decent human before I’m gone.
Goodbye.
Xavier placed the note on his desk. He took a serrated knife and stabbed it on the corner. Kind of pointless, considering the fact that it would be sitting there either way. He walked over to his drawer, each step releasing a creak. The creak always tore his ears. The building he lived in was decrepit, but he didn’t have a cheaper option. No matter how much he hated his home, it astonished him that there were people who thought of his home to be “aesthetic.”
“So classic! The wood’s color soothes my eyes!” It made no sense. He reached into his drawer to get his gray collared shirt. It was the oldest shirt he had that still fit him. It looked very ordinary. Some would call it aged, and it really was. It was one of his most valuable items to him personally. It had a history. Not only that, but the person who gave it to him was someone who he cherished. Someone who he cherished that’s gone now. He would return the shirt to its rightful owner.
He removed his top to see his shriveled body reflected on his mirror. It was a skinny dry leaf. If someone were to step on him, he would crunch like one too. His rib cage poked into view from behind his skin. It had just occurred to him. He hadn’t eaten in a while. This wasn’t even him anymore. It wasn’t Xavier that he was looking at. The person was far more horrifying. Hideous. Disgusting. Maybe that was him. Yes, it was. That’s exactly what described him.
He brushed it off his mind. There was no need to think these thoughts anymore, it would all be over soon. As he slipped the collared shirt on, it masked his shriveled appearance. He looked at his face through the mirror. His white highlight of hair stood out from the rest of the coal colored strands. They covered his eyes. His expression was that of a corpse, as usual. He was so dull all the time. Tired, despite getting excessive sleep. He lacked motivation. He didn’t like interacting with people. A single glimpse of his face was more than enough to send the message through. He had very few friends, only because he didn’t have the energy to deal with slicing ties with them.
With each step, he buttoned his shirt. He grabbed his phone and walked to the door. He took one final look into the abode he suffered in. The rusty looking door handles. The damaged mahogany wood planks. The window. He may have hated his room, but the window had a calming view. It brought him to peace.
The snow among the Baltimore city lights looked pretty through his window. The cold is what he would go out to, and he was prepared, mentally. He left his apartment door at a small creek and shut all but the table lights off. The light where the note was sitting. He walked down the stairs of his apartment. Each step felt heavy. It always did. His shoulders felt compressed, his chest felt tight, his eyes felt droopy.
He reached the end of the staircase and walked out. He winced. The cold hit him. It stung like bees in every inch of his skin. He didn’t expect it to be this freezing.
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Go inside. Wait, no. Keep going.
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He walked through the snow. It was soft. It was like cotton. The snow barely made noise. His face reddened. It stung him badly until it numbed. It was quiet, unusually quiet as he walked towards the side of the water. Did he really need to do this? yes, he did. Feeling something, even if painful, was better than living like an empty shell. His breath was all he could hear. Steam puffed out of his mouth like clouds. He wanted to cry of pain, but he had no tears to shed.
He sat at the side of the water. He saw the view of the harbor. Perhaps it would be a nice final view. His toes dipped into the water. It was a mound colder than the air. The yellow street light illuminated the water and the snow. He could feel his body’s temperature dropping, bit by bit.
As he waited, He decided to flash back to all the good moments in his life. He closed his eyes. He remembered all the people he loved, but it only ripped him apart more. The people he cared about were all dead anyways. It made him feel like shit, like he could’ve done something. He didn’t want it. Instead, he thought of things that were small.
Coffee. Creamy coffee. Snow. It was pretty. Fireplaces, mesmerizing. Woodcarvings. Fun to make, but expensive.
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5 minutes.
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10 minutes.
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Half an hour.
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He was still there. It was getting worse and worse by the second. He felt cold to the core.
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Just a bit more, he thought. Just a bit more and this’ll all be over. Don’t give in. Don’t seek warmt-
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It hit him. A sting of anxiety and paranoia. He wasn’t feeling these. There were the feelings of someone else. There was someone within close proximity to him. He turned around to see a young boy in the distance, his hand on the wall of a building. He looked out of balance, unaware of what to do or where to go. Was he insane? High? A lot of people were going around high, especially in Baltimore. The #2 city with the highest crime rates in the U.S.A.
But the emotions from this were different. He had sensed what high people had felt before. They were more chaotic and confused. This person had a more passive feeling. He couldn’t see his details from afar, but he made him out to be a medium short person. Maybe 5’8 or 5’9. It was hard to make out the rest of him, like his eye or hair color.
The boy noticed Xavier staring at him. As soon as he noticed, Xavier could feel the boy’s anxiety spike up,
“Hello?” he asked.
Xavier was going to respond, but his lips halted. They were too cold to say anything. His lungs reeked of frigid air. He only mumbled something that even he himself couldn’t understand. He could feel the kid’s fear decrease as it slowly formed into distress. It wasn’t distress for the kid’s self, however. It was distress for Xavier. Why the hell did he care? It shouldn’t matter to him. His end that was supposed to be peaceful had already felt interrupted. He knew that there was no way that the kid would leave him alone.
Xavier got up from his spot and took out a lighter he had in his pocket. He held his hands near the small flame of it, warming them up and bringing an uncomfortable, thawing feeling, finally allowing him to feel the pain that was supposed to come with the cold. He started feeling confused emotions from the kid again. Letting go of the wall, he got closer to Xavier. It would be a pain to deal with him. Xavier inhaled a bit of air to speak.
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“Get the hell away, I don’t need help,” he said. He could see the silhouette of the boy stop. Momentarily. The kid kept approaching him.
“Why are you still coming? Who the hell are you?” Xavier stated sternly. The silhouette stopped again, in a more defensive position. Xavier felt the discomfort that he felt.
“Wait, I just came to ask, who was the person sitting next to you? I think I know them.”
He had to be on drugs. There was no one sitting beside him. The figure of the boy got close, under the street light. Xavier could now see the face of the kid. He seemed young. He could fit anywhere between the ages 16-20. He had black hair with a pale white streak, identical to Xavier’s.The boy opened his mouth to speak.
“Sorry sir, I think I saw it wro-”
“Get away!” Xavier called out. Unless it was a birthmark, the white hair streak, it meant that this kid was gifted too. Xavier had a strong loathe and feeling of envy towards other gifted people. It was part of the reason why he was there. Others ended up with blessed luck with their gifts and drawbacks, while he was stuck gazing at the emotions of others that he couldn’t even experience for himself.
Xavier dropped his lighter and pushed the kid to the ground. He was swallowed on the thin layer of snow. His rage and bitterness took him over.
“You’re born with something blessed, aren’t you? Something easy to deal with?!” he yelled.
The kid was left stunned. Xavier could see a blank circle with blue over his head. He was in shock. He was clueless about a single word that Xavier had stabbed at him.
“Gifted?” he asked. “I’m not gifted, I’m normal. Maybe a bit delusional sometimes, according to some people, but not gifted.”
So he had pushed the kid for no reason? No. He had to be. The kid wasn’t lying, he could tell, but maybe he didn’t know. Maybe that’s why he was acting all delusional, seeing things, going around like he’s drunk.
“Why were you going around confused? You didn’t know what was exactly going on. You thought that there was a figure next to me. Tell me, what the hell is going on in your head?”
“I- I just saw it wrong. I don’t think there was anyone. I need to go now-”
He was lying. He did see something, and Xavier could tell from the spiked emotion he gave off when Xavier asked about it. The kid was getting up from his spot, freezing from the pavement. He got up to run but Xavier grabbed his thin shirt. He wasn’t going to let him go that easily. Pale explosions were happening around his head, the visuals of intense panic. Xavier had seen it before. He pulled his shirt down tightly towards the ground. The kid got slammed onto the ground. Xavier looked down at him to see a terrified face.
“What are you doing?” the kid asked, his voice trembling from either the cold or the fear.
“I’m going to see if you’re gifted or not. There’s no way you aren’t. Go home or do whatever the hell you want if you’re not. And if you are- we’ll think about that later,” he said. He bent down to grab his arm. The boy seemed too stunned to run. His hand gripped over the boy’s arm like welded iron. He didn’t budge, he lay there in the same position that he had fallen.
“Up. Get up!”
He scrambled to his feet and started following Xavier. Xavier started walking back towards the city. The kid was slow, but a little rough push seemed to get him to walk. The kid tapped him, and he turned around.
“Um… sir? Where are you taking me?” he asked anxiously.
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Xavier had just realized what he had done and what he was doing. He was taking a stranger with him, but to where? Idiotically, he hadn’t processed that ahead of time. He wanted to prove that the kid was gifted, somehow. The kid wasn’t going to speak so easily about what he saw. It must’ve been part of his drawback. He was too afraid and ashamed. Xavier didn’t have the time to be nice enough to crack it out of him, but he was still internally furious enough to prove it to him. He couldn’t afford a psychologist either. It was really dumb.
“F--k it. Fine. Go home or do whatever, I don’t care,” he said. He tossed his arm back in a violent manor, going on walking across the street.
“Wait!” the kid yelled. “I don’t have my phone, I- can you take me home? I need a GPS to navigate.”
The kid held onto his collared shirt, his dear collared shirt.
“Get your disgusting hands off my shirt. I’ll take you, I’ll take you. Calm down.”
And so there he was, taking a teenager with mental issues back to wherever he resided. He felt exhausted. At this moment, all he wanted was to drop him off and go back home, back to where he would inevitably suffer further. His attempt in taking his own life had failed. At least for that night.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
