SelF CarE

SelF CarE by WulfF420 (This Story has swearing all throughout)

Chapter one; Every Day...

Struggling Tellon Rosenboun POV;

I dash into my door again, as I always do. Sighing with a growl embedded into it. As I start setting my smokes and keys and wallet, and things on the counter. I un-tense up and let my thoughts free into the air to process them. Inside my own space, isolated as always, the comfort I prefer. My force field that surrounds the interior of my space the force field made up of all my racing thoughts and emotions, was active and free to be analyzed now. No this isn’t some strange tech, however; this is just an artful rendition of what it feels like as I pace in my empty place.

I kick off my shoes and start reading my mind’s reflections, attempting to figure out what I want to do. I settle for just turning on isochronic tones with EDM for focus on you tube, for the millionth time. this week. I sit at my desktop PC and attempt to write in my Star Wars fan fiction series. It is about a young Jedi and his twin brother who is a Sith lord but there connection to the force is tied together. “Wouldn’t it be cool if Disney plus would make it a series?” I sigh with a growl again frustration filling my heart as i discover no new reads, no new likes, no new nice comments for the gazillionth time. I start to pout internally and bounce my knee.

I decide to get up and roll a dooby to smoke while I reread my book again. Still interested, as I read it, wishing others would find it as interesting as I do, and encourage me on it. Encouraging me into writing what I want, and they could still enjoy it! Rather than judging me by the weird content in it! I light up another cigarette and hit my vape cart a few times. Then as I set to the task of rolling me up a yummy stick of that sticky icky icky, ooh wee, I look around at my thoughts for a second.

I start singing some lines from Kid Cudi Pursuit of Happiness as I finish rolling it up. My cigarette smoldering away in the ash tray. I pick it up, and I take a long drag blowing it out and push the cherry off of the end in the tray. I carry the halfy with me and sit it in my tray at the desk, and I light my joint. I begin scrolling along, reading what I had been writing. Losing myself in my imaginary worlds with imaginary siblings as an only child.

I keep reading, bouncing my knee, nodding my head to the invisible song in my mind. I listen to the voice of my narrative as I read my world coming to life before me. I read the epic battle and smile. I am writing in the middle of the first story. I then watch the tiny vertical line with its mocking flash begging me to continue. I start talking to myself, “come on man, put something down on the page. Find any single detail you can think of, and put it down on the page. When you find it, you will tap into it again. Your fictional counterparts need you, dude.”

I pick out some random details, and I manage a paragraph. Reaching for my doob in my lips. I grab hots and feel the burn as I drop it in my weed ash tray next to my keyboard. There it sits in its spot nestled between the key board and cigarette ash tray. My doob all but gone now. I sigh, watching another fallen soldier in this war with myself smolder out. I grab my half cigarette then and light it up and lean back, puffing it and thinking. While rereading the paragraph the hundredth time and correcting typos. From time to time, taking a step back to soak it all in.

I stop and take a break. I decide I might just make food and watch tv for a bit. Wonder if any of my shows have any new episodes? What day is even it? There all the same, but it’s fine; I’d rather live comfortable than in the unknown struggling. I can be blessed in the fact I have this stability and can live like this. I’m lonely...No! I am isolated for my own comfort. Nobody understands me, and I don’t like others in my bubble. These thoughts are precious. Any one of them could give me what I need at any time. They have to keep processing.

I make my way out of the bedroom. I am pacing the house, sighing, thinking of all the stuff I wish I could have. I walk out onto the porch and lean on the railing, taking a deep breath and watching the cars going by. My heart sinks into my stomach with disdain for everyone passing by. I sigh deeply and mutter to myself, “I hate this shit” yet again. Truly, too many times to count that I do that. This world sucks I want one that suits my own views.

I reenter the house and i stop at the big tv and stereo. On YouTube with another binaural beat that fails to do what I want it to. I grab the controller and I play one of the dubstep tracks I always listen to trying to get hyped up. I figure I would be in and out cooking so I may as well just bump some jams maybe another dubstep rabbit hole will lighten my spirits today. I hit play on Kotori’s Mint flake song. The little voice in the song almost sounds like it starts out by saying Daddy Please Daddy May I and babbles after that. It’s a cute voice, and it tries its best to wobble my head and infuse that little happiness in me.

I go into the kitchen and I start picking out something to make. Cook some meat or just some easy prepackaged comfort food? I’ll just go with the comfort food. I pop it into the oven and clean a dish to use. Then I sip some water from a brisk bottle I refilled and popped in the fridge. As I’m doing that, the song “Sick Boy” By The Chain Smokers; The Ray Volpe remix starts up. I screw the cap back on my brisk bottle quickly, trying to reach the controller in time.

I get to the TV and I reach for the controller, but it’s already played too long and it captivates me. My hand falls away from the controller, and I surrender to the captivity of it with an ache in my heart. I love this song... but it hurts because it’s too intense for this moment. I get past the beginning and the drop comes on. As the voice turns into a deep low voice stating in defiance “I’M The Sick Boi!” and rips that riddum like crazy I’m banging my head and bouncing to it now. The party ends when the song gets to the end, though. The line repeating fade out Triggers me again “Feed Your Self From My Life’s Work! How Many Likes is My Life Worth?”

The tears fall down my cheeks as I listen and at the end. I scream-sing the line with all my rage for Four to Eight Bars as it fades out. After that one played another toucher began Panda Eyes: Color Blind-another of my favorites. It usually gives me hope but sometimes also hurts me. The Vocal chops have a little voice, and I hear special lyrics that speak to me in them; “Keep Steady and be calm! and all those days will come. Keep Steady And Be Calm! Yes, All Those Days Will Come! Oh Yes, All Those Days Will Come!” On the other hand, though, The “Keep steady and Be Calm”, is replaced by something indecipherable, and then all I hear is, “And All Those Days Are Gone!” Then my favorite song becomes a professional plumber, installing the water works into my eyes and blinding me.

My dinner finishes cooking, and I pull it out of the oven and go have a smoke while I let it stand to cool before eating. I then grab my plate, and I sit down in my chair and flip through the apps looking for new episodes. Nothing, so I go and re watch Rick and Morty for the thousandth time. I like the bright colors and the ridiculous comedy; it makes me feel good. Multiverse travel, huh? Wouldn’t it be nice to have the means and jump around universes till you find the place your meant to be and go there and be happy.

I finish my dinner and put everything away, then sit back down to watch more. I thrash up in my chair, realizing that I’m just waking up. Damn it, I fell asleep again. I didn’t want to fall asleep I wanted to watch tv and get back to trying to create something. I decide that I will give it up for the night. I am free tomorrow, so maybe I’ll get a lot done. I ready myself for bed; the mirror in the hall keeps mocking me as I walk past. I stop off and glare at the young man in the mirror. His dead eyes tell me how much of a failure we both are.

I flip off the figure exclaiming my hatred in dozens of terrible combinations of unkind words. I see his hate reflected back at me as I have a starring contest with him. The murderous intent of both parties locked in each other’s gaze as they stare, myself and myself. If I hate you so much, why do I only care about making you happy? I do everything I can to keep you happy, and you do nothing but hurt me. All I care about is what you want, but you are the person I hate most in this world. I wish you would come out here and do something for me for once.

I then curl up in bed and cry myself to sleep for the 10 billionth time this week.

I thrash awake, breathing a bit heavier. I’m rested and better but also angry and worked up. What the hell was I dreaming about? damn it! I can’t ever remember anything I dream, so I can’t even lucid dream and live my fantasies. I smoke a cigarette as I sit cross-legged on my bedside. I get up, and I go into the kitchen to heat a cup of coffee from my pot in the microwave to get one fast. I turn on the pot and wait for my cup to finish nuking while I eat some gummy pieces from my fridge.

I poor my cup of coffee with creamer and milk for flavor and to cool it slightly I put one of my songs on the tv. Turning it from the astral projection beat I have on, I use the search tab. While the failed binaural plays I type in a good song to get me perked up. let’s just go back to the Scranton remix of the Cup Head Theme. Try to listen to the chorus again, dude. ” Hey Boy: don’t be afraid about anything they throw at you. Hey Boy: We all know you can deal with bad guys all alone. Hey Boy: Don’t Be Afraid about Anything They Throw at You. Hey Boy; Just Keep Fighting To Reach Your Milestone!”

I head back into my bedroom and I roll me up a plank of that dro. Then I light her up and inhale deeply, letting the fuzziness in. YouTube’s algorithm sometimes picks out your liked songs at odd times for some reason; I almost wonder if it is some kind of fortune teller at times. The next song plays while I’m smoking and nodding my head to the song prior to this one. Mori Caliope Future island and the bubblegum bouncy hip hop track about One Piece gets me jumping around and dancing silly, warming my spirits a bit as I enjoy my wake and bake.

The morning continues, and more of the odd funny songs I enjoy come on. I look at the upcoming songs and say, “Fuck It. let em play.” as I dance. After future island, crazy frog axel f came on, and I giggle and dance. Then, The Gummi Bear Nuki Nuki. I crack up laughing; all these silly songs, I love, and I continue dancing to them as i try to prep myself for the day. I am already brimming with disappointment as I checked my stories and found no hope still. However, for the moment, I try to get my spirits up and hope i can work on it today. Maybe once I finish, it will get somewhere. People might not want to be invested in it if there is a chance I won’t finish like I have a history.