Reasons To Live
Not A Reason In The World
Warnings; Possible Triggers, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Hatred, All The Lovely Things That Come With Depression; Brace yourself this won't be particularly easy to read.
Summary; Arthur Kirkland has lost all of his reasons to live because of an accident that left him deprived of everything he's ever loved. He's lost inside himself. In a darkness that will only consume him if he can't discover reasons to live.
Disclaimer; I do not under any circumstances own Hetalia: Axis Powers, nor do I make any sort of monetary profit off of such. I do this purely for my own demented reasons. Enjoy~!
My eyes fluttered open to a black, bleak world. It wasn't always this way. I wasn't always blind. I used to be able to see clearly and vividly. I used to be a productive, useful member of society, but ever since I woke up after the accident I've been blind.
That was three years ago. I barely remember colors or the way the sky looked at sunset. It's all muddled and muffled. Like my mind is rejecting colors and sights in general because I can no longer see.
I'm acutely aware that I've woken up too early because he isn't awake yet and hasn't really shifted any. I don't feel like sleeping because it's the same as my reality. Nothing noteworthy, just a mass of never ending blackness. Whether I sleep or stay awake it's all the same. Which is rather sad, but that's my life. A mass of black.
I suppose there's a subtle difference. A fuzziness to reality. And I'm able to see blurry almost shadow-like outlines. Though it's all bland and black just the same. There's nothing overwhelmingly special about either, or me for that matter.
I turn over onto my side from my back and slide my hand along the bed looking for his hand. I want to know he's here with me. I want to feel it if I can't see it. I want to know I have someone even if it is just because he feels sorry for me and can't stand to leave a poor blind British bloke alone. I sigh softly when my hand meets his and his closes in on mine, not the other way around. Even in his sleep he manages to comfort me. To allow me to feel if I cannot see it.
I must be the most pitiful excuse of a man on this earth. I must be a sad sight to see. Because everyone knows about the accident, and in turn everyone knows about me. The poor blind Brit. To make things worse I was abandoned as well. They set up funds for me. I suppose I should be grateful, but how can I be when every person who has ever heard of me pities me?
They don't think there's a person behind the accident. They don't even care if there is. I'm blind and abandoned and poor and alone. I haven't got a friend in the world and I'm a gigantic pity case. I can't help but resent them because all they see is an unfortunate accident. I'm just a series of unfortunate accidents that no one can possibly want. Not even he could actually want me. How could anyone?
I'm nothing but a bother. He has to do so much for me, someone who can give so little back, who can do so little. It has to be tiring, frustrating even. It can't be easy. I can't be easy to care for. I'm nothing but a nuisance. A pest. A needy blind person. I can't do anything for anyone, let alone myself, anymore.
I sighed softly and turned away closing my eyes in the process, not that it matters, black is black. I rubbed the expensive silk sheets between my thumb and index finger. I can't help, but wonder just how much they cost the man lying beside me. Much more than I'm worth, that's for sure, and yet he bought them for me, to stimulate my senses. I can't imagine why he goes to this much trouble for me, or why he even cares. I can't imagine why he hasn't left me for someone more suitable. There are billions of people on this earth, why stay with the disabled, pitiful Brit?
He stirs a little and scoots closer to me mumbling. It's getting closer to him waking up. It's only before he wakes that he stirs. He's still until then. Honestly he could be awake right now, only he's not. He's breathing is still sleepy. He's not up yet, but he will be soon enough.
He tosses his arm over me and I leave it there. It gives me something to think about later, to imagine, and to dream up. I may actually be blind, but that doesn't mean I can imagine I'm not. It may be hard to picture things, to imagine them, but it's all I have left in this world. And I cherish every moment of it, no matter how difficult.
I sigh again, it's a soft and pitiful thing, the sigh of someone who's perpetually sad. The sigh of someone broken. The sigh of someone like me. Who has lost all in the world they care about. Their life has been turned upside down for no real reason. Who has been deprived of everything beautiful and wonderful about this earth. The sigh of someone who can't find a reason to live anymore.
A/N: I am not blind and I do not know if my description of being blind is accurate or not. I improvised with what little knowledge I already had, which consists of hearsay. This most likely isn't accurate, flame if you must, but while you do why not give me pointers? Also, I'd love it if you guys commented to tell me what you think so far! For those of you that follow me you know that I've posted a rather unnatural amount, but I was waiting for a game to download and writing doesn't take wifi. Horribly long authoress note over.