sorrowful

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just assume all of these r wilbur unless otherwise

Windows.
Windows are quite interesting actually, if you take into account their true potential. The trees waving in the distance, the leaves dancing through the night sky, the stars glittering from above. It's almost like a dream.

Thoughts can always linger when staring through a window, your eyes being occupied by a single speckle of dust whilst your thoughts can take you as far as fantasy.

Thoughts always lingered through Wilbur's polluted mind. Intrusive thoughts? Potentially? Upsetting thoughts? Probably.

Nothing could distract him unless that speckle of dust flew out of sight. His trained eyes would then seek something else to find out of the ordinary.

Time could fly be, and he wouldn't even notice. Not a single worry flashed his mind when he checked the time and subsequently noticed the amount of time he had spent simply stating. Simply hoping for something which he could never have. A fantasy, if you will.

He stared back at his desk mindfully, occupying himself with staring at the mess. Failure.
Failure.
Fail.
Fail.
Fail.

The simple task of organising a heavily disorganised life was mind boggling to Wilbur. It just simply can not be done. Groaning, he flopped onto his bed, simply picking up his abandoned, ancient and certainly antique phone and checking his notifications.

1.. 2.. 3.. 4..
The numbers were out of Wilbur's capacity, the number of notifications were abysmal. Friends, he'd call it. Calls, Texts, Twitter?! No. Calls and numerous texts were left by his friends.

Why?
Why did they care?
Burden.
Burden.
Burden.
Stop letting them deal with you.

Gently, he pressed on a notification, almost as if his phone was going to explode at the touch of a hand.

Online.

Read online.

Shit.
He rapidly swiped out the app, but not quickly enough to receive a bombard of texts from Tommy, bursting with joy that he is alive.

Sighing, he went back on the app, reading Tommy's messages.
A faint, but fond smile appeared. The boy cared, and that's all Wilbur needed. Caring may mean he's a burden, but Tommy was different. Tommy was Tommy.

He finished reading his constant notifications, before settling down and sleeping.

This would be a tomorrow problem.

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