when they left, he was left with the kind of sadness that only teenagers could understand. an intense loneliness that crept up on him on his commute home from work. he found there was no way past it, he could wrap himself up a fantasy, in an imagined world brighter and quieter than the greyness of London but he could never make it last.
he lay on his bed, drawing circles around and around a dirty brochure thinking about how he could try and make the world a better place. the feelings he felt were too intense, they overwhelmed him almost every day; tears would rapidly pour down his face and his body would ache and heave from uncontrollable sobs. he felt dramatic, he felt stupid, he felt the futility of it all.
he continued for his parents. he lived for his parents. friends? he had many, but he couldn’t live for them. he laughed with them, he smiled with them, he even loved many of them… but he couldn’t live for them.