An Evening

With an impending doom Jason laid upon his bed and stared at the ceiling. It was a friday evening in which he was shrouded by a darkness he had no control over. He was alone and as such delved into negative thoughts better not explored. Yet, as with many of his evenings, he had no way to stop them from clouding his mind and basking a darkness over his already fragile and sour mood. Jason thought of his countless flaws and his seemingly baseless qualities and toiled with self loathing and flirted with self hatred. With each passing week of loneliness and each passing failure Jason slowly closed his heart and suppressed his emotions hoping that someone would take the time and effort to break through. It occurred to him how doing so was in many respects selfish. He knew that those he loved, and those that loved him, had their own struggles and trepidation, and that "testing" them was in-itself a fruitless act for it did not truly express their love and feelings. As with all cycles of course, this was one he could not break. Yet Jason could not feel guilt free about telling how he was feeling to people who are both close and far in distance. He truly wanted them to ask, to delve, and to dig from him the many emotions and thoughts he was feeling, for that was the way in which he was able to express himself in a guilt free manner. 

Jason laid in bed. His phone by his side set to insure that if anyone contacted him he would be undeniably informed of the incoming form of menial human contact he so craved. He just wished for one text. One act of kindness in which a kind soul said "I know you aren't okay. Let's talk." It wasn't going to happen. Those forms of interactions, as he knows, only happens in movies, in which timing is impeccably set to create enough suspense and emotion to keep the viewer hooked, but not too much, for if they created to much it would be to painful and uncomfortable. Jason continued to lay silently in his bed, staring at the poorly painted ceiling. He tried he felt. He attempted to change things. At what point do you give up and accept the truth? At what point is trying no longer admirable but a tad pathetic and saddening? Weeks? Months? Years? Decades? He didn't have the answer. With all his evenings he never gains an answer. It was a vain act that never brought about any self-realization. Happiness, like all other human concepts Jason considered, maintained its transparent, translucent, and indescribable abstraction. 

He considered the term for hours, turning it in his mind to no avail. Always he came to a consensus that he seemed unlikely to be able to truly ever be as "happy" as everyone seemed to be. Jason was sure that everyone held a secret to life he did not know in which they had gained happiness and countless other idolized words and human concepts he could only thinly grasp. Jason looked at his open and cold computer and glanced at the time at the top of his laptop, it read 1:30 am. The night was still young and his mind was still restless. 

Jason died every night. No one knew it. They saw him smiling the next day, hiding a pain that he kept deep inside if only for societies sake, and maybe for himself. Some secrets, even the ones that ultimately destroy you, are kept for they give you a little more power. Knowledge is power they say. Jason would than rise the next day from his death, and look at the clock once again. He would scroll through Facebook and see his face on the screen, smiling. At that moment he was reborn, and he would walk out the door with a reborn demeanour that would last until the next evening, when he would face his death once more.