A man sat on his bed, the heavy weight on his shoulders seemed to seep through to his entire body. He could hear the vibrations from his phone on the countertop, continuing to buzz, but left it alone. He didn’t want to hear whoever was on the other side. All he wanted was to engulf himself in his blankets, hoping for more time before the sun would peek over his curtains to greet him once more to the next day.

     He cursed in his mind, shuffling his black locks out of his face, and viewing the lone phone on his countertop. One missed call flashed on the screen. He swiped his phone, clicking on the open envelope to search for the name who called him.

    Hey. Did you need something?

     He pranced out of bed, being pushed back and forth to different locations, ignoring the buzz that was in his pocket.

    No, it was nothing important.  

    He raised his eyebrow in question, shrugging at her words, he continued on with his routine. The feeling on his shoulders seemed to grow heavier, and glancing back at the screen he wondered why.  

     People say that it gets easier, but it doesn’t. Sometimes, they only say that to make you feel better. Most of the time, it never ends. It feels like you’re getting better, but there is always that looming shadow behind you. Ready to push you back in again, and sometimes never let you out of its sight. A lot of times, you let it.

    He waited on the swings, tugging his feet back and forth, glancing around for the person he was looking for. His usual clean shoes, were filled with scuffs and scratches, and his jean jacket was thrown on the other swing. He saw the red converse shoes trudged in front of him, the soft huffs from her extensive running, rang into his ears. He glanced up, seeing her disheveled hair, her flaring nostrils, and her track clothes.

     “Are you okay? What happened?” She asked, the worry in her eyes emulating into his, proving that he had called the right person.

     He glanced up at the girl, bringing her into his arms, the soft words murmured into her hair. “I know you told me to talk about it,” She could slightly hear in his soft whispers, “but can I just hold you for now.”

     All she did was nod, letting him hold her in his arms, and they stayed that way. Every time he called she would respond.

     There are people who suffocate themselves in it. We usually see themselves trapped in their enclosed walls, and never want to leave. We ask them, plead to them, to seek help. So, these same people became smarter. They pretend to be happy and cheerful, so that everyone else doesn’t feel remorse for them. Other times, it's a wall to protect themselves from the possible pain and guilt. Yet in the back of their minds, they still hear his cry. That looming shadow that brings them back in.

      He sat in the small corner of the corridor, a secluded area where only he and his friend knew, and the place where he felt at peace. He didn’t have to hear their endless lectures, the stares and cameras pointed at him, read the words that expressed another’s feelings towards him. All he had was him, in his four walls, away from everyone else. Night had once again came, and he had told his group that he wanted a moment. The leader, and his best friend, glanced back. His eyes showing the fear and uncertainty in leaving the boy alone.

     “Don’t come back too late,” He told him, and the words still echoed in his head.

     He heard a soft creak coming from down the hallway, glass bottles cluttering together in an odd beat, until he saw an open bottle of alcohol peek through to his corner of the wall. He saw the small red in the corner of the other side of his vision. He chuckled pulling the bottle to his lips, “Did my leader text you to come?”

     “He told me you were acting strange.” She muttered. He glanced around the corner, seeing her take a quick sip of the alcohol in her hands, before chuckling at the scene. His hand stretched over to grab her hand. She froze, seeing his hands hold hers, until she saw him slowly reach towards the cold glass bottle. Slowly she released her grasp on the bottle letting him take away the alcohol for him to finish off.  She chuckled at their common exchange, unsure why she always freeze when he would reach for her bottle.

     “Why do always steal my bottle?” She smiled, peering over the corner to see his expressionless face, “I am legal. Shouldn’t I be able to drink it since I bought it.”

      He glanced at the small pout on her face, her doe like eyes peering deeply into his lone, dark eyes. He smirked, shaking his head, and finished off the last drop of her bottle. Her pout deepened seeing the empty bottle while he took his original bottle back to his lips.

     “Now will you tell me what’s wrong?”

     Have you felt it? The feeling where your body seems weightless, but heavy at the same time. Where your heart seems to be pounding faster and louder, while the words that seemed stuffed in your throat never seem to come out. I’ve felt it. The pain and anxiety that coursed through me, and endless pleading from the back of my mind asking me ‘why continue?’ and ‘why not end it?’, but other words come into my mind. Words that make it seem like my life was worth it, and that there are people out there that wouldn’t want me to leave. When I think of that, my throat seems to be in more pain.

     He glanced at another message, a small smile peering on his face, and the feeling finally setting into him. His other members continued to scroll down the comments. He sat against the couch, watching his friends read anxiously at the comments, their eyes glittering with anticipation, others with a fierce glare, while gleefully expressing their feelings. He chuckled seeing them push one another to view another comment, another when they punched or kicked each other because of their feelings, and eventually nagging to each other of the pain.

     A buzz came from his pockets. He turned to see the small message on his phone. It was a picture of her with the newest album in her hands gracefully signed with the other members. The small grin turned to a smile, seeing her large, toothy grin piercing into him.

    Thank you for the album. I hope I get your card ;P

    Another buzz came from his phone, he glanced to see his leader’s name on his screen the small message flashing over the picture.

    I’m glad you’re feeling better.

    He glanced at his leader, sending a soft glare, before pushing him to his corner on the couch. “Ahh I love you too.” He teased, forcing that soft, kind glare into a heated one.

     It comes in stages, we first think that it’s just sadness or unfortunate events for that one moment. Then we see that those unfortunate events seem to continue to pile up, and we find ourselves constantly thinking back on them. We pretend that everything is okay, but the events seem to bounce back, knocking on that door, and reminding you that it’s still there. We give excuses to distance ourselves, and sometimes the distance comes to a point that there is no one around you anymore. Often times, my mind would try to push away those thoughts. Instead my body reacts to it. Pushing everything I had inside out; most of the time it’s just small burps and coughs, but sometimes it's worse.

     His stage clothes were covered in sweat. He ignored the odd glances from the strangers around him. His now blonde hair smoked his vision from seeing the lone girl on the park bench. Her brown hair in small curls bounced as she glanced back and forth in the varying directions she had expected him to arrive.

    “Sorry that I’m late.” He softly whispered.

     She turned to see him, covered in sweat, and wearing clothes he would never wear casually. “If you were busy, you didn’t have to come.”

     She grasped her phone, swiping at the screen to search for the person she was looking for, but was stopped by the large hand around her wrist. She glanced at his soft eyes, and sighed at his silent words.

     “Why did you cause yourself so much trouble?” She muttered, a small pout on her face, “Now I feel guilty.”

    He patted her on the head, a small smile appearing once more. “You do it for me.”

    She scuffed, pulling away from his small gesture, and turned away from him. “You idiot.”

    The two laughed as he grasped onto her shoulders and walked down the road. The two ignored the odd glances, and the murmurs that were spread. He ignored the possible cameras, and her shaking hand that she grasped behind her back.

     I told you before that talking helps. I told you that you should meet the people you trust and letting them just listen to your words, so that you can relieve yourself of your stress and fears. I wonder why I didn’t want to follow through with my wisdom. In a way, it’s just who I am. I’m used to pretending to be happy, letting these walls grow higher, and letting that shadow cry out to me. I never had a safety net, at least, not one I didn’t feel guilty towards. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. I do, and I always will. It’s just that I never wanted to burden you or make you feel guilty. You had your own worries, your own troubles, and you trusted me. You trusted me to be your safety net. I wanted to fulfill that role for you.

    The sole man laid on his bed, his phone thrown in the corner of his room. His arm hiding the feelings that were expressed on his face. He wanted to stay in his room, alone, and in the dark. Like how he felt after reading the small letter in his hand. A small huff escaped his lips, and he found himself feeling the same heavy worry on his shoulders. His mind wandering in the distance, and his body grasping to contemplate what he had read.

    He wanted to scrunch up the small letter, tearing up the pieces up, and question to himself why he hadn’t seen it. Why he didn’t see the stages before...before all of it had happened. Then he remembered why he was ignorant in seeing it.

     “If you knew I was suffering and you felt the same, why did you not say anything?” He thought. He glanced at the saved pictures on his countertop, the giant grin on their faces, and her silently mimicking of him and his “expressionless” face. “You didn’t have to be my safety net.”

    Remember that shadow, the one that’s constantly looming over you. Most of the time, that shadow is you. Sometimes, you beat it. A lot of times, you don’t. The times that you do beat it is when you have reinforcements. Your safety nets. The people who care about you, and the reasons why you continue. There are those few who forget about that. People tend to be selfish, while a few are ridiculously selfless. Those people are often called ‘idiots’. I’m sorry that I’m an idiot.

     “You idiot.” He cried.

    Tears now ran down his face, he could barely whisper the words that were stuffed in his throat. His endless heavy feeling seemed to have burdened him further. The unusual pain in his chest intensified, his heart beating louder and faster than before, and he wasn’t sure when it would stop. Three soft knocks came from his door, and he could hear the soft creak as it opened. The small streak of light pierced in his room, and a lone shadow stood in the center of it. He didn’t want to see who was there, he didn’t care. Pulling the stranger into his arms, he cried.

    Afar, on his broken screen, was the message that was left unspoken between them: ‘I’m sorry”.