.sick and tired. [lane stand alone]

[∂αмєη]

[[ooc; idk wut this is so don't read it cause it's horrible]]






[905D2C] [E65C00] [A89070]

Fuck. Was that word good enough to explain how I was feeling? Probably not. I'd need to repeat it a million times while punching a wall in order for half of my emotions to be understood. What were these feelings? What was happening? I wasn't quite sure how to react to any of this because it was so new. Looking up at the screen in the corner of the room, I felt like giving up. For the first time in my life, I felt the need to end my journey and to just say fuck it. Today was the first day I felt like shit because somebody died. It wasn't a relative or an ex girlfriend or some stupid Peacekeeper who I had to pretend to like. No. It was a criminal. He was a criminal. And he was my friend above all else. Nobody would ever be able to fill the void that he had filled. Ethan was gone and it felt like the end of the world.

Would I ever get a break in life? It seemed like the answer was no. Between my tongue and leaving my old life behind and going through a withdrawal from all the drugs I used to do, I thought that this would be the end of it. I truly believed deep down that I would actually be able to enjoy myself and to live a few days in happiness. Is there anybody who wants to see me do well? Is there anybody out there who knows what they're fucking doing? I doubt it. They only find ways to kill the good ones. Dumb ass Capitol people are being born and people who work for their livelihood are getting killed every day. How is that fair? How can that work without them realizing that they're fucking idiots. None of this is right and none of this is fair. And I'm tired of all of it.

The gun began to be very prominent on my desk. Ethan would have done it. He would have said fuck it. Okay, maybe he wouldn't actually pull the trigger but he would still think about it. Maybe. Maybe I didn't know Ethan well enough at all. Considering he was dead and I felt like all hell has broken loose, I obviously cared about the guy. And yet, all I knew was his name. All I knew was that the boy who just died was somebody I actually loved in some way. And now I was alone. I'm glad that it was quick. Maybe he didn't feel a thing. Maybe it was easy for him and he wasn't going through more pain than anybody could possibly imagine. That would be the best outcome. Hopefully Ethan died and was able to, you know, not really know that he was about to die?

I don't even know what was going through my mind. Seriously, it was all jumbled up and it was completely random. Nothing made sense any more and the only feeling I know I felt was sadness. Sadness that my friend was gone and that my other friends would be going through the same thing I would be. Sadness that I'd never get to see his face again unless it was on my television screen. And then there was anger. Anger at myself for not being able to help him and anger at the Capitol for creating this sick game. And anger towards the wall for just fucking being there. I lunged forward and cracked my fist against the wall as hard as possible before moving back to my chair and pacing around it. Come on Lane. Get your fucking shit together.

I was breaking down. Okay, that's an understatement. I was freaking the fuck out. I felt as if up wasn't actually up and down was to the left or something. My head was spinning and my stomach was flipping shit. And you know what? I actually felt good. I actually felt good when I punched the wall again and again, creating a small dent in the drywall. "-uck my -ife." Taking a deep breath and dropping back into the chair, I closed my eyes. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. No, it couldn't be happening. I reached forward towards my gun and lifted it off the desk before slipping it from its holster. Holding the weapon against my head, I took a deep breath in and held it there for a moment.

And then I pulled the trigger. Boom.

Faster than I ever had before, I shot out of my chair. My eyes flung open, ending the nightmare I had been having. Patting my face gently, I concluded that I wasn't actually dead. But Ethan was. And I felt it. There was a hole inside of me that he had filled. And now that he was gone, that space was empty. Who would be my Ethan? And what would I have done if it was Bear up there? Fuck Lane. Pull it together. And so, I did. I gathered all of the emotions together and tucked them away somewhere so I could access them one day. My mind was fucked and nothing was actually clear. But Ethan would want me to just move on. Ethan would want me to be happy, right? Yeah. That's what I'll tell myself each and every day. That's what he wanted.

And so I go about my every day activities as if nothing actually happened.