He is just a scared little boy on the inside.Been hurt so much…
physically and mentally, to the point he cant trust people. Hoping to love. but he doesnt really know what that is. all hes known and learned from others is pain. Solitude is his god. Hes seen others “love” and wonders what it would be like.
Hes even had chances….but like the beaten whelp he is, he retreats back to his dark corner in the closet of his mind, the minute they speak to him or extend a hand in his direction.To survive he has his shell… a weak twisted perversion of his actual self… the happy little boy that everyone thinks he is, carefree and social. But at the end of the day, its all the same routine. with what little energy he has left, he drags the smoldering corpse of his shell back home….yeah…home, if he can call it that. that dark cell hes come to accept and love, even long for. In that dark womb….theres no confusion, no one to make false promises, no one to ridicule him, no hate or hurt from others to deal with… just his own. here, he feels safe, cradled in his own arms at times…how many….he cant count anymore, nor does he even care. just sitting there after work, crying without tears, waiting for sleep so he can wake up and do it all over again(work, eat,sleep,work). Madness brings certain thoughts of permanent comfort. but hed rather not listen to madness….for madness is just another un-invited guest. eventually, the nightmare that is his reality ceases,….and he falls asleep.
-Avatarzero-