Felicity

   He remembers walking one night. The dark woods and the smell of wet bark engulfed the winding, broken road. The melancholy environment had him feeling like it was where he belonged for a moment. He layed his broken body down on the broken road, hoping that someone in that broken town would come speeding towards him in their broken car and take him out of this broken world. 

   No one ever came. Not just that night, but most. Not to kill him, or save him. No, he knew he would have to make that choice on his own. had spent a many nights trying to figure out which he would do. Or hell, which he could do.

   The week before he had his head in a noose. Staring at the hotel wall, feeling his stool wobble below him. He feel. And hit the ground. The pole he was tied to hit him on the way down. 

  At that point, shame doesn't exactly describe what he was feeling, but it was a good start. Sorrow would be closer. Room service would be in shortly. He scrambled to his feet, threw the belt to the ground after detatching it from the pole, and stormed out of the hotel room, exhausted tears streaming down his face and shirt. 

   He walked about an hour and a half to his favorite park. If he had to be homeless, it was probably his best bet at making it. But it was getting cold and wet. Hurricane season had started, and he had no way of getting food, not that he could eat even if he could. 

   It wasn't rock bottom that shook him, but a feeling of shame and betrayal. That he feel for something he should have known was a trap. He had ran and worked his life away since he was 15 only to be back in this situation again. His body as broken as his heart and soul, and nothing to show for it, other than an addictive personality, an attitude issue, clinical depression, and the scars to constantly remind him of these shortcomings of his.

   Permanent memoirs of his failures and cowardice. If only he could have a souvenir of his accomplishments. If for nothing else than to remind him that he had a few. The park used to help. Music used to help. Looking at the night sky. Standing in the water. But after everything that happened...

He felt drained of everything he used to love. How does he cope with this?

   All of this and more rush through his mind as he lay on the asphalt. he spent his life hoping for the best. But now, in this moment, he was just hoping he would never have to pull himself to his feet again.