If there was one thing in this world he hated most, it was definitely the concept of feeling emotions. As a child, emotions didn’t seem important at all, but as he grew into adulthood he discovered that they would be his downfall. Among all the pressure at work, he didn’t have much time for anything, let alone his stupid emotions. He hated how someone could get so attached to another person, while it was possible that the other person just didn’t care. Now he was sat in his small apartment at one in the morning, having just finished at work, and his emotions were getting the best of him. Every time he inhaled, he could feel a sharp pain in his chest, or more specifically, his hart. With every exhale, he could feel the pain shoot through every other part of his body. He could feel a painful tingle in his fingers, in his arms, in his legs, everywhere. There was no escape, no remedy, and he absolutely resented the man who did this to him, who left him in this position. He felt like , the pain unbearable, a worthless excuse for a human being. He had long given up on eating, he didn’t care for it any longer. Every day was the same: get up at six in the morning, head to work, work until midnight (sometimes even longer), get home and try to get some sleep. Around that time, when he was trying to get some sleep, was when the pain kicked in full force. If someone could see him like this, he was sure they would label him as insane. Maybe he was insane, he didn’t know anymore. Not like it mattered anyway, he was always alone, there was no one he had to be sane for. After checking his clock once more, he closed his eyes, the red numbers on his alarm showing him an hour of sleeplessness had already passed. He should at least try to get some sleep.