Before You Go
Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2020 1:08 am
Morgan sat in his bed; or rather, the nest he'd built out of sheets and blankets and pillows in the corner of it, wrapped tight in a colorful comforter that was doing none of what its name suggested, just a face sticking out of the fabrics. Sleep hadn't happened for the acrobat, and his eyes certainly showed it, shadowed beneath and lids drooping in a sort of half doze. A blunt was settled on his lips, no longer lit, and his head was settled against the wall as music played from a bluetooth speaker that had color changing LED lights that were all too cheery. He stared off into nothing, and finally flicked his tongue out, letting the rolled cigar fall down the cascade of blankets, to hide itself in a fold. He pulled himself further into the blanket, and gave a groan. What was the use of drugs if they weren't even working?
I fell by the wayside like everyone else
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I was just kidding myself
Our every moment, I start to replace
'Cause now that they're gone, all I hear are the words that I needed to say
Anything. Everything. But no, he had a mouth that didn't know how to make the right words. A brain that couldn't string them together right.
The acrobat's eyes closed, pressing moisture into lashes washed clean of any makeup as he pressed lips together tightly, a thin line broken only by the metal ring in one side on the bottom. Tighter, the blanket went.
When you hurt under the surface
Like troubled water running cold
Well, time can heal, but this won't
What was it about sad music that was so healing? What was it about letting yourself fall into that black hole that tore at everything you are, everything you were, everything you could have been, that was so... cathartic?
So, before you go
Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better?
If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather
So, before you go
Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?
It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless
So, before you go
Morgan looked over to the speaker, and in a flurry of moment, accompanied by a scream, his foot came out from under the blanket, connecting with the speaker. But it didn't stop playing the song as it clattered across his floor, effectively only warping the sounds for the brief moment it was in flight and rolling to a stop against his dresser. A naked leg hung out from beneath his sanctuary, and his head tilted back, a ragged cry tearing his throat.
Was never the right time, whenever you called
Went little by little by little until there was nothing at all
Our every moment, I start to replay
But all I can think about is seeing that look on your face
When you hurt under the surface
Like troubled water running cold
Well, some can heal, but this won't
Had he not already been tucked neatly into the corner, he'd had slid back against the wall and stuffed himself further into that nest of blankets... As it was, he was as for as he was going to go.
That look on your face
The words reverberated deep in him. Every time he'd said something stupid, hurtful, never meaning to, always cutting deep.
"I hate this place."
"I wish I were dead."
"I don't know what I want."
"Fuck you."
The cry dwindled into a choked sob, something ugly, hurting, tears wetting cheeks and teeth gritting, lips pulled back in a grimace that spoke only of pain, deep and throbbing. It was like this. Every time. Every. Fucking. Time.
So, before you go
Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better?
If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather
So, before you go
Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?
It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless
So, before you go
Like fucking high schoolers.
Thud. His head hit the wall through a cushion of fabric and batting, and a rough turn of his head shifted blanket and hair, strands clinging to sodden cheeks. But there was no effort made to remove the irritant that stuck to him. Probably, this was his fault. Likely, this was his fault. Maybe, they were right. He wasn't boyfriend material. He was cut out of a different cloth. Or something.
Would we be better off by now
If I'd have let my walls come down?
Maybe, I guess we'll never know
You know, you know
Maybe he hadn't been... vulnerable enough? Anytime he tried, he clammed up, and made it something physical. Real fucking healthy, Morgan. There was so much that could have been said. So much that could have been done. All those silent, comfortable moments, he could have been more.
If only he hadn't ruined it in the first place.
It was getting harder to breathe. Every sob racked his chest, pushed, hurt, tightened, so that the breaths that were taken back in never quite matched. Moments of silence as his body shook, followed by desperate gasps for oxygen he wasn't even sure he really wanted, at the moment. Couldn't he just stop? Why did his body have to fight so hard for something his heart was giving up on?
Before you go
Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better?
If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather
So, before you go
Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?
It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless
So, before you go
Forward he bent, curling into a tight and pathetic little ball, something as small and insignificant as he felt. A speck on a speck on a speck that didn't give a fuck. That curled up creature of colors and wet spots fell over, the only indication of anything human within being that pale leg still thrust out, knee bending as it drew up closer, toes curling in.
The acrobat was breaking. Shattering. Again. And again. And again.
Another cry. Hoarse, and broken, a useless lamentation to an uncaring universe, a whisper into the ear of the unsympathetic world, gone unanswered. For what would the answer be? In Morgan's mind, he only heard the doubt, the blame that lay damn near solely on him. His stupid mouth. His childish tantrums. His inability to understand the simplest of fucking concepts.
And the heedless heart willing to forget the pain, ever hopeful and searching for that next diminishing high.
I fell by the wayside like everyone else
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I was just kidding myself
Our every moment, I start to replace
'Cause now that they're gone, all I hear are the words that I needed to say
Anything. Everything. But no, he had a mouth that didn't know how to make the right words. A brain that couldn't string them together right.
The acrobat's eyes closed, pressing moisture into lashes washed clean of any makeup as he pressed lips together tightly, a thin line broken only by the metal ring in one side on the bottom. Tighter, the blanket went.
When you hurt under the surface
Like troubled water running cold
Well, time can heal, but this won't
What was it about sad music that was so healing? What was it about letting yourself fall into that black hole that tore at everything you are, everything you were, everything you could have been, that was so... cathartic?
So, before you go
Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better?
If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather
So, before you go
Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?
It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless
So, before you go
Morgan looked over to the speaker, and in a flurry of moment, accompanied by a scream, his foot came out from under the blanket, connecting with the speaker. But it didn't stop playing the song as it clattered across his floor, effectively only warping the sounds for the brief moment it was in flight and rolling to a stop against his dresser. A naked leg hung out from beneath his sanctuary, and his head tilted back, a ragged cry tearing his throat.
Was never the right time, whenever you called
Went little by little by little until there was nothing at all
Our every moment, I start to replay
But all I can think about is seeing that look on your face
When you hurt under the surface
Like troubled water running cold
Well, some can heal, but this won't
Had he not already been tucked neatly into the corner, he'd had slid back against the wall and stuffed himself further into that nest of blankets... As it was, he was as for as he was going to go.
That look on your face
The words reverberated deep in him. Every time he'd said something stupid, hurtful, never meaning to, always cutting deep.
"I hate this place."
"I wish I were dead."
"I don't know what I want."
"Fuck you."
The cry dwindled into a choked sob, something ugly, hurting, tears wetting cheeks and teeth gritting, lips pulled back in a grimace that spoke only of pain, deep and throbbing. It was like this. Every time. Every. Fucking. Time.
So, before you go
Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better?
If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather
So, before you go
Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?
It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless
So, before you go
Like fucking high schoolers.
Thud. His head hit the wall through a cushion of fabric and batting, and a rough turn of his head shifted blanket and hair, strands clinging to sodden cheeks. But there was no effort made to remove the irritant that stuck to him. Probably, this was his fault. Likely, this was his fault. Maybe, they were right. He wasn't boyfriend material. He was cut out of a different cloth. Or something.
Would we be better off by now
If I'd have let my walls come down?
Maybe, I guess we'll never know
You know, you know
Maybe he hadn't been... vulnerable enough? Anytime he tried, he clammed up, and made it something physical. Real fucking healthy, Morgan. There was so much that could have been said. So much that could have been done. All those silent, comfortable moments, he could have been more.
If only he hadn't ruined it in the first place.
It was getting harder to breathe. Every sob racked his chest, pushed, hurt, tightened, so that the breaths that were taken back in never quite matched. Moments of silence as his body shook, followed by desperate gasps for oxygen he wasn't even sure he really wanted, at the moment. Couldn't he just stop? Why did his body have to fight so hard for something his heart was giving up on?
Before you go
Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better?
If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather
So, before you go
Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting?
It kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless
So, before you go
Forward he bent, curling into a tight and pathetic little ball, something as small and insignificant as he felt. A speck on a speck on a speck that didn't give a fuck. That curled up creature of colors and wet spots fell over, the only indication of anything human within being that pale leg still thrust out, knee bending as it drew up closer, toes curling in.
The acrobat was breaking. Shattering. Again. And again. And again.
Another cry. Hoarse, and broken, a useless lamentation to an uncaring universe, a whisper into the ear of the unsympathetic world, gone unanswered. For what would the answer be? In Morgan's mind, he only heard the doubt, the blame that lay damn near solely on him. His stupid mouth. His childish tantrums. His inability to understand the simplest of fucking concepts.
And the heedless heart willing to forget the pain, ever hopeful and searching for that next diminishing high.