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Tommy has had a pretty shitty day, when he came back home, laying down on his bed. Well, it has been a couple shitty months. Tommy felt nothing anymore, except for a crippling loneliness that just wouldn't leave him. So he made a decision: If things wouldn't change soon, he'd end it. Write a note and everything. He had already planned how he'd do it and where. All he needed was one more reason, then he'd be gone forever. Free from this reality and the pain he felt on a daily basis.
Thats all he really wanted anyways. Freedom from himself. He actually hoped for this last reason to come soon, just so he could be free. He sighed, staring at his ceiling quietly. Saying that he was laying on a bed was an overstatement, he kinda just laid on a mattress on the floor, ever since his bedframe broke and his parents wouldn't buy him a new one. Tommy himself refused to spend any money on anything that was permament, since he didn't plan on sticking around for much longer. Tommys phone had been on silent, since no one ever texted him anyways, giving him no reason to check it or put it on anything besides silent.
Staring at the ceiling, the blonde couldn't help but tear up. He felt so alone, wiping over his eyes, but more tears just replaced the ones he wiped away., starting to drip down his face as Tommy started sobbing quietly, making sure that he wouldn't be heard by anyone else in the house. To muffle his voice, Tommy turned onto his stomach, pushing his face into his pillow.
He genuinely doubted that anyone would care, even if they heard him. Nobody ever cared about his sadness and nobody ever would. But Tommy knew that, so it was fine. At least that was what he told himself. Eventually he calmed down a little, grabbing his phone, a glimmer of hope that somebody, anybody could have maybe texted him. But that hope was crushed when he saw that nobody reached out to him. Of course they wouldn't, he wasn't important to anyone. He was nobodys friend.
So Tommy jsut went on Instagram and scrolled through his feed, staring blankly as he scrolled past post after post, most of which were sad. This of course didn't really help his already bad mood, but these videos and pictures expressed his feelings in a way he couldn't, so he shared them on his story. He didn't have any followers and he was following nobody, but that didn't stop him. He just hoped that expressing his feelings through the words of other people would make him feel less bad about himself in the long run.
Tommy spammed his story with these sad things, putting it all into a highlight, before he had to stop watching, because it was making him quite upset. It just made him feel more alone and like he truly had nothing and nobody. Like he was truly alone, with nobody to go to for help. Not even his boyfriend was available to talk, but to be honest the blonde had become pretty used to that, as much as it still hurt. Tommy knew it wasn't his boyfriends fault, so he would never blame him, but it still hurt, having nobody to talk to.
A short while later, the blonde finally drifted off to sleep, listening to ASMR that made him feel a little less alone. Waking up in the morning, he quickly realized his mood had not changed, he still felt sad and empty. And he continued feeling like that for the rest of the week. Sad, alone, empty. Still nobody reaching out to him. Even trying no things did not improve his mood. Feeling this way for an entire week made Tommy quite hateful towards everybody, mainly himself though. But, he welcomed this new feeling, hoping it would make things easier for when he was gone.
On friday, Tommy started writing. He wrote two suicide notes, a short one for his parents (even though he didn't believe that they would care much) and one for his boyfriend. The note for his boyfriend was significantly longer than the one for his parents, as he was trying to explain everything to him. Tommy had promised his boyfriend that he'd never leave him and now Tommy was about to break that promise, which made the blonde hate himself even more.
When he finished the note for his boyfriend, Tommy was crying, thinking about all the good times he had had with his boyfriend made Tommy quite sad. He really didn't want to leave his boyfriend like this, but at the same time he had no idea how else he could numb this everlasting pain. After making the note digital, so he could send it to his boyfriend over text, Tommy got up from his mattress, humming as he went to get a razor blade from the bathroom.
He didn't have any of his own, but he was sure that his father would not notice. The old man rarely noticed anything in general, especially if it had to do with Tommy. The blonde hurried back to his room, sitting back down on the mattress, blade in hand. He hadn't planned to do it right this moment, but the longer he thought about it, the more determined he became. He had nothing to live for, nobody to live for.
So he held the blade in one hand, using his free hand to send the note to his boyfriend, put the physical note close to him, where it wouldn't get messy and then he looked down at his arms, pressing the blade into his skin, watching as there were small red beads forming on his arm immediately. Tommy took a deep breath before quickly pulling the blade down his arm, applying pressure as he did. He hissed at the pain, but he did it with a genuine smile, something he hadn't had on his face in almost half a year.
He didn't let the pain stop him from his ultimate goal, quickly switching arms and repeating what he had done on the first arm. He watched the blood slowly start to get worse, before he he fell back onto the bed, closing his eyes.
Hours later Tommy's parents would find him in a puddle of his own blood, suicide note on one side, phone on the other, buzzing with unread messages and phone calls that would never be answered again.