Happy ever Dafter

X

The dust laid in the air. No bird chirping but the droplets from the shower that woke up Thomas. click. The sound of the nightstand light beeing turned on. No doubt. He was alone in his apartment. Sloppily trying to get up and stumbling over his own clothes. A sad look on the mirror. The towel was already used. A suspicious amout of Hairproducts missing. A fresh scent of his perfume. He was away. He was alone. Coffe pouring into a white mug. It was still warm. Not too long ago Guy must have left through the front door, without him noticing. "Why didnt he say goodbye?", Thomas was dissaointed in himself. He was that far and now everything was apperently set to zero?. His brain could not comprehend what has happened. Slowly getting dressed and walking with another mug of cofffe to his creator-room. Music began to play, desperately trying to mix something new, get a new song maybe even a bit more than that. Today, he was not in the mood for making music. Not even music that described his current state was something that would please his ears. He either wanted a pure blank silence or music so loud that it would cover every thought he had. Maybe he would have gotten a better idea if he inspired himself with some notes that he took. Sliding open the drawer he found a ton of other papers but not the note that he took before yesterday. He was searching. Nothing. The note was simply gone. Totally spaced out he sat on the floor. Staring at the vaulted ceiling and not beeing able to make a thought that would make sense. As if some No-Idea arrow had struck him. There was a massive Artblock whitin him. A deep black nothingness. No music, no rythm. Nothing. laying down in bed he regretted even standing up this morgning. He should have just died that night. Going to sleep happy whith his favourite person next to him and everything still beeing good. Tears falling down at the pillows and blankets. Slowly soaking everything up making the bed the most uncomfortable place ever. He slood up and clawled to the bathroom and sat down. Knees on his forehead, arms around them. Crying and sobbing all alone on his bathroom floor. Oh he was so lonely he could never want to love again. Maybe moving out of this country would change his mind. No that would meant the end of his career and slowly his own unstableness leading him back to france. He could not escape, he was trapped in this situation. Everything was pointing to going blank. Near to having a heartattak at his mid twenties he smashed his head onto his knees with a deathly screech resolving into leaving two big red marks on his head that would propably not heal away that easily.