A short release

Writing always had been therapeutic for me so here I go.

I won't write about how discontented I feel right now with my life nor the glaring at my file of lecture notes currently situated on my bedside. What I'll write about will have nothing to do with my life, a form of escapism that I greatly need right now though my mood has some bearing on the tone of the story.

The noise emanating from the television and the howl of the wind's furry did nothing to stir A up from his position. Huddle up onto the corner of the bed, with the blanket tightly bunched up against him and head buried into his arm, A was oblivious to the world.

He chose not to feel anything, to shut off his emotion and just be. If only that was possible in humans. He felt the dampness on his hands though he tried to blank out his mind, clearly it was too much. He knew he couldn't fool himself but no one could blame him for trying to escape the harsh blow that reality had given him.

Pictures started to emerge and that was all it took to break open the dam. Tears flowed freely and rushed out like they had somewhere to be. That though incited a short chuckle before the loud sobbing took over again. A did nothing to stop because he couldn't, he had so much pent up emotion that he just burst. One week's worth of grief turned A into a near hysterics state, grabbing the blanket until the knuckles were white as it were the only thing keeping him from being completely shattered.

"I know you think that it's silly I still have my blanky but I need it, not for myself, but for you. When I'm not near you, it'll help me to protect you and remind you that I'll always come back."

B lied. B wasn't coming back and all there is left is a tear-stained blanket and a broken man.