In a flat lies a body on the floor. He's surrounded by hanging pots carrying green leaves bringing fresh clean air to his lungs.
The man has no name, no description fitting his personality, an empty shell that lies waste on the floor of a flat that he alone owns.
Under the large window pane that brings light onto the plants, so overgrown, rests a copy of his favorite book. He leaves it open although he hasn't read the book in a year.
Yet on the other side of his place too lonely, too unfamiliar to call home plays an acoustic record on repeat.
Too drained of life lacking his basic sense of humanity and meaningful purpose it spins as the place orbits the sun time passing slowly, untamable.
He lies awake never moving enough to regain the energy clearly lacking in his face, the spirit definitively faded in his eyes.
Dazed as if in a coma he remembers the man that now is only a shadow in his mind, a distant memory of fonder times.
His childhood brings him an unsustainable peace fleeting faster and faster like the seconds kept by his watch.
As his watch shows him the time he has spent he musters enough steam to find food to sustain the life he no longer wishes to keep.
Forcibly eating what he can his body rejects what he puts in his stomach for his mind and soul no longer have the basic need to sustain his life.
leaning over the edge of his toilet bowl every afternoon unable to keep down the little he intakes he dreads the next day. Soon enough his body begins to show the makings of a corpse.
muscles atrophy, and scars become more apparent on his skin, almost as self-evident as the ones within. The night enfolds the apartment only lit by the dim lights that line the walls.
Through the skylight, he stares hoping for some form of reprieve, some form of peace. Yet still lies awake within and without. As the days pass in repeat he forgets himself and those he's loved.
On the weekends the friends he once cared for deeply arrive to help improve his state. Using what power he has left in him he gathers it all to put a smile on his face fake in its true nature.
It goes unmentioned, but his friends know the truth that his smile is nothing but a facade trying to pretend the pain is unnoticeable.
After their efforts are made in vain they leave hoping eventually He'll come back to them someday.
Once again the presence of loving company wanes from his heart and the loneliness starts to sink in.
The process is repetitive at least, days of nothingness, hopelessness followed by his friends attempts at cheering him up.
Semiweekly he receives a call from his family seeking signs of betterment in his wellbeing. Showing no sign of change in his discouraged state the calls are lessened in time.
He only sees this as a sign for him to try less in his endeavor of life to continue forgetting his own will to live.
Viciously the cycle continues time becomes a blur and moments fade in importance. Not even memories of love, hope, and dreams carry weight in his heart anymore.
The shell of a man he was begins to crack, pieces of himself disintegrate and the ash follows the breeze out an open window into the city lights...
On the desk to the left of him that he rarely visits remains his artwork untouched, his manuscripts forgotten. To the right of him rests his upright piano broken collecting dust.
He recalls the day he fell in love on a piano bench in a pub to the girl he married.
He recalls the details of her face, the texture of color in her eyes, the variations of her voice changing through her emotions. despite his efforts, not even tear can he draw from his eyes.
His emotions had begun to dissipate as well. In some form of anger yet unable to fully experience it he forces himself to remember her parting. Distinctly he sees it as it was.
Her face flushed with frustration she pleaded with him angrily to try to reach deep within him.
Her eyes filled with love and tears it breaks her to see him so despondent,
yet with her final words begging him to acknowledge his own life she is the only witness to have seen the last time he felt true emotion.
Throwing bottles of wine, glasses, and plates to get some sort of appropriate reaction he stood still in acceptance of her anger.
As the glass breaks and shatters intentionally missing him every throw she broke down piece by piece.
Hitting the walls, breaking the piano, smashing the potted plants, but not one small movement from him.
Inadvertently she cut herself on the broken glass and shockingly he was jolted from his despondent state finding himself running to her aid.
While he wrapped the wound left on her arm he looked at her with what love and care weren't corrupted by his despair.
Breathing heavily with a light-headed feeling he spoke, "I wish I could tell you there was a cure to the way I feel...
I wish I could tell you it could be fixed, but no amount of substance drugs or alcohol, no amount of healthy living,
and no amount of talking to anyone can change this feeling or the lack thereof. I have loved you and I will always love you through every pain, every terror, every hurt I experience...
I promised you this when we first met and on our wedding day and I promise you this today.
If what I have done to you is unforgivable I understand but I will apologize every day for the rest of my life if that's what it takes."
Her eyes flooded with tears that of drenched her face and clothes begin to shake.
Attempting to respond she recaptures her breath to speak, "My love you have done nothing to me, It's not your actions towards me that hurt me this much, but the way treat yourself.
You don't realize that I see your scars run deeper than the ones on your body. I see this self-depreciation you insist on suffering through, but what hurts me most is you no will to live...
" she screams angrily, "if you love me then why don't you want to live!" choking on his own breath and the pit in his throat he has no explanation, no response.
In her last efforts of hope, she kissed him. Standing up she removed her ring leaving it in his hands and walked out of the flat.
Opening his eyes as if he emerged from deep waters breathing heavily he had drowned himself in his memories. Only to awake from what seemed like a nightmare he views the room.
Seeing the broken piano the wine stains on the wall and some remains of shattered glass the pit returns to his throat.
Closing his eyes in a sigh of relief that he could feel something, but this was not a happy awareness.
For in order to feel something, anything he had to endure reliving his worst most painful memories. His physical, mental, and emotional state instantaneously worsened...
Something needed to change. as if something picked him up from the ground he steadied his legs and walked over to the piano.
Putting shaking hands on the keys he sat in silence without the ability to play. Walking to the kitchen he grabbed a towel and something to clean up with rushing to the mess that had been made.
He rinsed away the wine stains, disposed of the shattered glass, and cleaned the rest of the flat. Once finished he lay back down once more on the floor and closed his eyes.
In the morning he woke to find himself rested, but unable to shake the feeling of nothingness he refused to move.