Sleep.
Anxiety greets him each morning as if it were some sort of undeniable plague which eats away at him during his waking hours. As soon as he opens his eyes each day he counts down the minutes until he can once again shut them and escape the reality. Try as he might, there is not solitude felt even in his moments of rest due to the haunting memories brought to him as dreams which would be more likely to be catagorized as nightmares. He lies as he tells his family and friends that life is swell with that big stupid grin on his face. Although he waits in his own purgatory, the reason for this limbo has yet to come forward and claim its wrong doing. As he has known pain for all too long, he knows not to hold his breath for anyone other than himself. The pain inside of what seems like far too many years of torture has jaded his eyes to what the reality of love and friendship truly means at this point. He has no motivation to offer his love to anyone else anymore. The thought of putting that love out there to once again be smashed into a million pieces seems far to futile to even try to comprehend. So, he drinks at night to keep himself content for even a few moments before he passes out in his bed without any sort of care in the world. Then he waked up in the morning and the torment and torture starts all over again. He laughs as he realizes that each day is two steps backwards from his one measly step forward hardly to be characterized as "progress."
However, for some strange reason he continues to push onward. Not sure why or what the reason is for his stubborn attempt to prove to himself that there is something out there. Something bigger than him, or anyone he has met in his life. Not some sort of fictional being which he could blindly pose his allegance to, but a feeling to himself that he must continue to wake up each morning and endure that pain. Someday the pain and sorrow will pass and he will become stronger from all the bullshit. He should thank each one of those scars left on his heart and welcome them as something more than just a feeling of failure, but more as a conformation of his humanity. Perhaps he wouldnt achieve all those things he thought he would at his current amount of time spent on this planet, but maybe thats not anything that matters anyways.
Or maybe he's just being naive......
So, he continues to poison himself hoping that there will someday be a cure to his crutches. So perhaps he doesnt have to cure a crutch with another crutch to help himself stand each day because he feels as though he must. Hopefully because one day he will want to stand on his own with the knowledge that rock bottom hurts just as much as he imaganed it to.
Or maybe that's just what he wants to belive is out there......