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i walked across the living room and glanced into the bedroom. johnny's back is facing towards me, his head in his hands.
i wasn't sure if should leave him alone or ask what's wrong. i walked into the guest bedroom for some ibuprofen, my stomach and head twirling up in knots. i searched the medicine cabinet for it, but i couldn't find it.
i walked back over to the bedroom and glanced in again, seeing that he's in the same position.
"johnny?" my voice was inaudible, shaking and cracking as i talked.
looking up at me, he hand a mixed expression on his face. rage, sadness, confusion, all of it.
i was confused myself, why was he crying? why was he upset? is he upset with me?
"a-are you alright?" i stammered.
his face was emotionless, yet full of emotion at the same time. he stared at me with dark eyes and straight face. i didn't know if i made the whole situation worse, but why is he acting like this?
i gulped, his eyes peering straight through me. right to my soul. i could hear my heart beating out of my chest.
"you don't know how to feel." he breaks the silence with those words.
i was taken back, "w-what do you mean?"
he stood up and slowly walked over to me.
"you actually don't know how to feel," he paused.
"you don't know what the fuck goes on inside my head. all the twisted ass things that live in my psyche. you have never met my subconscious.
you didn't fucking know that when i was 15 i had depression, severe actually.
you don't know what i constantly battle inside my mind. why would you think that just, because have fans and supporters that i love myself?
i can stand myself for the most part, but their are occasionally days wen i absolutely hate and envy myself.
days where i think i'd be better off dead.
and a couple years ago i would go months feeling like that. so you know how hard it is to live yourself?
why would you assume that i love myself?
i actually do know how you feel, and i'm just angry that you automatically assumed that i wouldn't be able to relate to you at all.
