Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Author's Note: Was written for Rent100's prompt, 'Too Much'.
Haunted Memories, The Struggle to Survive, and It Was Just Too Much
Mark Cohen came with baggage these days, both figuratively and physically. It was endless this feeling that had haunted his chest, hollow and deep, creating a neverending sensation that he was drowning.
It was becoming normal for him, this feeling, because it was part of his everyday life.
Comfort in pain, he'd think as a bittersweet smile would cross his face and tears came tumbling down again, comfort in loneliness.
The phone was off the hook again, it's incessant beeping doing nothing but remind him that he was the only one in the loft to notice it.
It was a blur of loss of love and constant tears and trying to sleep his life away, nothing but blackness and the sliver of light that creeped through his blinds, and stale bread and rotting milk.
Empty ashtrays, a thin sheen of dust on the red guitar on the corner, the glazed eyes of a man who's lost everything and everyone in his life he'd ever really loved.
Cold air, empty thoughts, internal conversations with those who had been taken out of his life forever, stacks of untouched film reels and the camera, lying in pieces on the floor.
The smell of unwashed dishes, the color of blood as the cutting begins, in attempt to feel physical instead of emotional pain.
Days, weeks, even months pass, and Benny finds him in the bathtub, gone.
On the sink, a note that reads:
I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.
It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.
Lyrics from James Blunt's Tears and Rain.