Nothing is as it seems. Black is every colour of the rainbow, and, yet, it's still just seen as black. A seed is actually a tree, but it's seen as a seed. Summer is the only season you have if you live somewhere hot, even though the flowers still bloom in spring. And, Tyler is sad. . . He just seems to be happy. And that's cliché, yeah, I know. People looking, seeming happy, but they're sad. They're miserable.
You've heard about in songs, books, on the television and in movies. Where somebody's wearing a joyful mask to cover up their real, actually existing sadness. I know you've heard it all before. But it's everywhere. And that's just the thing about it. You don't see it. I suppose that's what all of these songs, books, television shows and movies miss. They only ever seem to talk about the fact that they're sad but pretending to be happy. They barely ever talk about other people and their pretty little masks covering their disgusting little faces.
There are people walking around us, everyday, and we think we know these people. We think they live such happy, perfect lives while we are left to drown in depression. We don't have a clue. No, no we have absolutely no idea.
Because, they're probably sad, also. Tyler doesn't seem to understand this. And he doesn't get that people feel things in different ways. He doesn't know that everyone's emotions are different. He thinks they are insane. Insane to think that they have bad lives, when he is the one who has a horrible life. He's livid. Furious. He cannot believe some people. 'Cause, no, they definitely do not have it bad.
He's got no legs. That's just the beginning, though. He has a disabled father. He's supposed to take care of him, but that's just so hard when he has no legs. And he doesn't have a damn mother to help them out. She left when Tyler was about six. He had a little brother too, only four years old. He had to look after him, too. On top of this, he's falling behind at school because he's simply trying to survive.
Tyler also gets fucking bullied. The list just seems to go on, because, life, it's shitty. It loves to throw bricks at you when you're busy trying to make a damned house out of those bricks. It just loves to trip your --non-existent-- legs over when you've nearly finished running a race. That's what Tyler learned when he was five. The year he was forced to grow up, because who the hell was going to look after him? Himself. He had to put away the lego and action figures and all of the barbie dolls when he was five. He had to grow the fuck up, because who the fuck was going to do it for him? Himself.
Tyler was a selfish, gluttonous fat fuck, too. He ate his troubles away. Food had been his only friend. It wanted to see him survive unlike any other person he had met. Food was what kept an organism alive. And that's why he loved it so dearly; it cared. You know what else Tyler Joseph was? He was really, really gay. How original, I know. But, hey? Six-packs were hot.
Maybe he fancied them because he knew he could never loose enough weight to have one himself. Tyler was ugly. He really hated himself. A lot. And there was nothing you could do to change that. And, last but definitely-not-fucking-least. . . Tyler was sad. Dull-full-of-woe-dismal-unhappy-gloomy-depressed-down-in-the-dumps-kind-of-sad. That's what he was. Ignominious. Most importantly, he wanted to die. I guess that's all there is to it, really.
His pale pink lips wrap around the BLT sandwich in his mouth as he counts the last bit of money they had. Tyler worked at McDonald's. Obviously the pay was shitty, but that's all a fifteen year old like himself could do right now. Fifty dollars. That wouldn't be enough.
"We'd have enough money if you stopped eating all of that junk. Y'know, you could actually buy something else." Chris scolds.
Tyler pretends not to hear him, internally rolling his eyes. He cringes at the taste of the tomato on his sandwich. Tomatoes were shit. They got to be described for stupid things like blush coating somebody's cheeks. A round little fruit got to describe something as nice as a blush. A blush should be something prettier.
