Perfectly Flawed

The air in the room seemed thin; no matter how many breaths he took he still seemed light headed from lack of oxygen. His mind was racing; his heart was pounding. Every sound amplified around him; his unsteady breathing; his blood being pumped by his furious heart; the twitch of fabric from his shaky form. He licked his lips in a vain attempt to wet them; but no matter how many times he moistened the parched pair they seemed to dry and crack even worse to the point that it hurt to move them even in the slightest. Blue orbs stared down at his upturned wrist. A razor pressed against the soft and delicate pale flesh; but he only held it there as he watched a small amount of blood surround the tip. He found the more he tried to push the more his stomach churned.



Could he do this? Was he really this weak?



Warm droplets splashed against his pale skin. The small droplets mixing with the blood surrounding the tip of the razors edge. He relished how his tears mixed with the blood. When had he started crying anyway? Did it even really matter anymore. His blue orbs focused intently as his hand held the razor firm against his skin.



Could he do it this time? Or would he fail in his attempt like all his other fruitless attempts?



His heart was in pain; and he didn't have anyone to heal it. Everytime he gave his heart away it would be thrown back to his feet in scattered broken shards. He would be left to pick up the pieces alone. A dagger twisted in his heart, or at least it felt like it.



No one was willing to help put back together the pieces; they only wanted to through more broken shards into the pile. Cloud looked blankly at his wrist as his mind continued to race. Instead of helping him; healing him, everyone just placed their own burdens and despairs onto his shoulders. But why? Why him? Why did everyone think that he was so strong? Why did everyone think he could take on the world and save it? Sure he had a mask in place for his family and friends; he would never allow them to see just how painful it was to just keep going. Maybe that was his downfall; but honestly, how did they not see the suffering in his eyes! No matter how much of that mask he slipped into his eyes would betray him; blank; dead; tired.... Did no one care to notice? He had taken on so much; had to grow up so quickly... Why was everyone... so.... selfish? Why did they feel it was O.K. to dump their own burdens onto Cloud's shoulders? Bad enough his friends pissed and moaned about their 'miserable' lives; miserable because they couldn't afford that lovely new game consule or mommy and daddy said no... But his mother...and now his father... Cloud expected it from his mother... but his father? When did his father become so weak... so vulnerable? Cloud wanted to sigh but his throat just couldn't cough up the noise; instead an odd pitched and painful note bellowed.



Why did his father look towards him to consule him? Why did his mother expect everything of Cloud and nothing of her other son? Why did his friends think that he had the best advice and all the answers? He didn't know anything!



Cloud threw the razor across the room, scraping his wrist as he pulled the blade away, "I'm not fit to help anyone... I can't even help myself...." The voice was in a low dark whisper as it hummed throughout his room. Cloud's eyes wandered to a safety pin near the bed; he had odd assortments of things in his room many of which people would find strange but to Cloud it was normal to randomly find things just laying around. In fact, he preferred it. He picked up the pin and stared at it with morbid fascination twirling it between his thumb and index fingers. Cloud sat forward in the bed as he dug the point of the needle to pierce through the skin on his arm; pointless...yes... but the sensation of it was somewhat relieving. It didn't hurt, Cloud thought with a slight grimace. His brows pressed together; what kind of freak wishes to feel pain... what was wrong with him anyway? Why this ritual of scraping; piercing; and failed attempts of digging the blade into his flesh?



Cloud gritted his teeth. He knew he wasn't making sense; his mind never truly made any sense to him. It would tell him one thing and he would feel another only to be thinking of something else all together. Did that even make sense?



What stopped him everytime? What made him fail you ask? Simple... Though he hated it; loathed it; grew more and more depressed as the days passed on.... he fought for it... He fought to save the world he hated so much. Fought to save the people he loathed and loved all at once. And he grew more and more depressed everyday so they didn't have to. If he was to die... he would erase all the efforts he put forth... He would drop the weight of the world on thier shoulders; and he didn't want to be like them. He didn't want to make them suffer so he could be happy. And oh god would it make him happy.



A twisted smile adorned his face; the feeling of weightlessness the idea of it all. Losing himself and giving in to the darkeness. He imagined it would be cold at first; but he would glady welcome that. He would embrace it and hold it close to freeze him over.



His smile faded and it slowly fell into a pained smirk; but here he was and here he would forever be... taking on everyone elses burdens... and trying to save the world... for them...



-------------------