The Man Of My Nightmares (Septiplier) **DISCONTINUED**

Anhedonia

No, maybe i wasn't happy. He was warm. His arm weighed me down slightly, bit it was loving. It was what I wanted. So why? Why did I feel nothing? Why did everything still feel like the same shade of nothing? I was given something to hold onto, to believe in. But no, I felt nothing. In fact, I felt worse. I needed to focus on something, so I focused on the hospital band on Mark's wrist. He had never bothered to take it off.

FISCHBACH, MARK E
MALE
DOB: 06/28/98

I studied the QR codes that lined the bottom of it. Perfectly square. I became aware of my breathing, which, of course, made it feel like an ordeal. In. Out. In. Panic. In. Out. In. Shiver. Out. It was torture. Mark pulled me closer, as if he were reading my mind. I leaned on his shoulder as a security guard hissed "No PDA in the hallways." It was a stupid rule. Why would they stop teenagers from finding out... Mark stopped abruptly. I looked up and we were standing in front of Mr. Green's classroom. English.

By the time Art came round, I was so confused. Why am i not freaking out about how Mark is okay and how he seems to like me back? I'm not sure what Mr. Ridgewell said, but I think he gave us a free period so I was drawing. I drew a panda. Not a cuddly panda, a starving panda. A pathetic looking, sorry excuse for a panda. But it was in a bamboo forest. It was surrounded by food. That's how I felt. I was enveloped in things that should've been euphoric, but I didn't feel it. I've become so numb, I don't understand. How has this become who I am?

"Hey there, kiddo!" Mr. Ridgewell had snuck up on me.
"What's this one? Is there an explanation?"
"I don't know, I don't feel good."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't feel happy, even though I know I should. It's weird."
"When you have time, look up the word Anhedonia." And he walked away. I pulled out my phone and searched for the word he mentioned. "Lack of happiness" "inability to feel pleasure." I wrote it on the bottome of my drawing right when the bell screeched.

That's it, really. My other teachers said some stupid shit I couldn't care less about and I felt nothing. I went home and scurried to my room. When I got on the bed, all I did was stare at the ceiling and think This is torture. I put on some music on my laptop just loud enough so it wouldn't be heard through the door. Specifically Misadventures from Pierce the Veil, it was nice. But I had a lingering feeling that I was dead and this is what it feels like after, this is what I created for myself. As soon as the album finished, I switched to Selfish Machines. I knew this album like the back of my hand, I listened to it so much. But it never lost its meaning.

***

The next day was the same. A small peck on the cheek for Mark, an arm around my neck. Feeling nothing. But at lunch I went to the bathrooms to see if Lily was there, I hadn't seen her in the morning. "Hey, Lil?" I waited... a sniffle followed by a putrid smell. I walked in to see her sitting with one leg extended, the other holding up her arm. Her hair was in a bird's nest, her glasses were off, and she had no makeup on. There were wristbands nearly up to her elbow. She looked so pitiful, so sad, so done. Worst of all, the source of the smell. She was holding a lit cigarette in one hand a the rest of the pack in her other. With two fingers, she brought the single cigarette to her mouth, then removed it along with a cloud of smoke. I sat next to her and she offered me a drag. I grabbed it, I mean what do I have to lose at this point. I inhaled deeply, accepting the potent taste. I let it fill me and tried not to cough when I let it out.

"What's wrong?" I asked simply.
"I got stupid drunk and I have a mad hangover and I don't want to go home."
"Why?" I didn't expect her to answer so quickly.
"My life is a mess and my parents hate me." She was giving short answers, but she seemed willing to speak.
"Why would you say that?" That sounded stupid.
"Because my fucking brain likes to give me bouts of depression, then my parents get mad about it and hurt me. Of course, I have to go and do everything that makes me feel better, which means my parents get even more mad and I don't want to exist." She said it in a frustrated, yet calm voice.
"How do they hurt you?" I tried not to make it sting, but I couldn't.
"Yelling, slapping, punching, whipping. I mean, they were younger than us when I was born, so they don't know what they're doing." She stared at the tile wall in front of us with a bitter expression.
"Why don't you report them to anyone? It might help."
"And what are they gonna do put them in jail, send me to a foster home? I won't be allowed to do the things that make me feel okay, in fact they could arrest me." She had a point, a really good point.
"How did you get cigarettes anyway?"
"The 7-eleven down the street doesn't check IDs, just look to see that you're not like twelve or something."
"I'm assuming that's how you got the alcohol too."
"Heh, yeah." She smiled a self-deprecating smile, one that screams regret.
I made a motion asking for another drag. In... Out.
"Remember, this is self-destruction. Do you really want it?" It was a vague question, but we both knew what I meant.
"I could do without thinking of the future for now." We sat in silence for the remainder of lunch, eyes burning partly from the smoke and partly from the tears behind them. The thing about you is there's always more.

We walked out and saw Mark. He asked why we smelled of smoke, Lily said it was some group of kids that kept blowing it in our faces. I blinked and suddenly school was over. I started making my way home, but quickly change my path. I approached the corner store, decorated in red, orange, green, and white and hesitated. Not today, but I'll look. The man behind the counter was helping some young woman around 25, so I took the oppurtunity to scan the area behind him. I studied the different labels. Menthol, light, menthol light, tobacco, wood tipped. USA Gold, Fortuna, Camel, Pall Mall, Marlboro. Rum, liquor, whiskey, vodka, bourbon. Grey Goose, Crown Royal, Henessy, Jack Daniels, Fireball. It screamed at me, as if saying you know you want it. Before the man could be suspicious, I grabbed a box of sweethearts and stood in line. It was way early, but there are no important holidays in January. As I checked out and started going home for real, I ate the chalky sweets and read their cheesy sayings of so-called love. The sweets tasted like they spilled flour into the sugar container, bland but sweet. The words didn't mean anything anymore.

***

Same morning ritual, a hug for me, a hug for her, a kiss for him. But Lily had a nose ring. A nose ring I was slightly jealous of. It was simple, a thin black circle. I whispered in her ear asking how she got it and she whispered back: "The tattoo and piercings shop. You live in a town in the middle of nowhere, nobody cares if you're legal. So long as you stay quiet." She sounded tired, unhappy. No.. I could smell it, she was drunk. She was unapologetically drunk in the middle of the hallway. I wanted that experience. I wanted to feel okay. Speaking of okay, we have therapy today. I didnt want to go. I didn't want to see Ted, the man who was supposed to care.

A/n: Oh shit i learned how to add pictures. I am a mediocre artist, thank you. Byee~