He sat in the armchair, at home, where he felt safest.
He watched the world float slowly by: strangers, neighbours... friends.
He did have friends, he knew that. He spoke to people every day.
Sat with them at college, laughed, chatted and enjoyed the time he spent with them.
But it was not enough.
It would never be enough.
The view of the world he once held so dearly had changed beyond comprehension.
He had no idea why, what had made it change - was it him?
Was it something he was doing?
Was it someone else?
He had no idea.
It frightenend him, not knowing why.
Not knowing why things were happening the way they were.
Why he felt like this, sinking, dropping, falling ever deeper.
He no longer had the strength to ask, to demand an answer from the monstrous feeling that was engulfing him, slowly, surely.
His defences had gone.
Nobody was there to help him.
He was all that was left now.
He could not let it take him: change him anymore than it had done.
I'm just over-thinking things, he thought.
...Or am I?
He could no longer escape.
The world had not changed - he had changed.
Changed into something he did not like, he did not want... he was terrified of.
The word, that single word, faded into his imagination, the thing he had always considered in his weakest moments, always dismissed with renewed strength.
No, he thought, I cannot, I will not...
But the strength that he had once held on to, relied upon with so much force, had vanished.
Only an empty void remained.
His words had no strength behind them anymore.
He once cared what would happen, if he did the unthinkable. The effect it would have on others, on those who cared for him, trusted him, loved him. What would they say, if they could see him now...
But they did not understand. Nobody could understand, not truely. Nobody could see the world through his eyes, through the eyes of the stranger that controlled him. The new world, the frightening reality that he so, so longed to forget.
But now... but now, it was his only option. The unthinkable... became practical.
Possible.
Considerable.
Accepted.
Inevitable.
He stood, leaving the comfort of the seat, in exchange for the mild, spring air.
He stood.
He remained there, standing alone against the emotions he had, for so long, been able to control, to ignore, to restrict in all possible manner.
He stared into the eyes of his demons, feeling the remnants of his strength draining away... disappearing... slowly...
The world beyond the window began to fade.
The neighbours, the strangers, the friends.
They were no longer there.
They all became nameless faces.
The beautiful flowers that shone in the early-spring sun began to lose their colour.
The amazing world, a world that he had once loved so much and with such undying passion, was beginning to fade.
His eyes saw it, no longer.
He stood, facing his fear for the first time in his whole life.
He was more than afraid, as it began to overtake everything within him.
Then he did another first.
He did not resist.
No fight.
No struggle.
No strength behind the eyes that had cared for so many; that had lost so much.
The images on the wall began to fade.
His eyes grew weary.
He could not carry on anymore.
His gaze began to drift, off to the left.
The shapeless face smiled, as he began to fall.
The chair was not there to greet him.
The strangers in the world beyond the window did not see him, in his greatest moment, his worst defeat.
His last act was to face his fear, to show he had some sort of strength left within him, to show that he was not afraid, when he truely was... with nobody there beside him.
No witness.
No friend.
No neighbour.
No stranger.
The chair felt comfortable to him.
His eyes closed, for the last time.
Hey - thanks for the comments, I forgot to mention at the start that it is part of a longer piece!! 
My mistake ha ha
It's meant to show the ending, after the character has been explored during the main body of the piece - my mistake!
I can see your point/s though
I really didn't understand it mostly because it didn't describe much of what was going on.... I felt like I was floating by and not paying attention.... IDK. but good, nicely written.
Hello there! This was an interesting read, to be sure. I can see you have a lot of emotional potential behind it but I feel like you didn't grab hold of it as best as you could. It's quite obvious this is about suicide, but beyond that there isn't much to grasp.
It's hard with stories that are meant to be mere emotional content because the reader needs t have a reason to care about the character, about their problems and their conflict. Here, however, I'm not even sure what the conflict is. We're given some slightly hazy sentences about their life but with no true solidity behind them. I just read the story, but I couldn't tell you in simple terms why this person wanted to kill themselves. There's nothing for me to grasp onto, relate to, feel with. You might be better off encapsulating the emotions, distilling them into a poem rather than into a fiction piece. Unless you're going to call this a prose poem (which it isn't, imo) it lacks the very basics of fiction: Intro, Conflict, Solution. I would suggest yu think about what you're trying to get across to the reader through this "Story" and try to put it into a more accurate story form, unless you want to make it a poem. As it stands, it's just... emotional globs on a page. And while these globs can easily mean the world to you, without the right perspective, the reader feels nothing and is clueless. With the story, you need to put us in perspective to understand.
I'd also suggest writing in full paragraphs that make logical sense. The way each sentence is broken up just makes it annoying to read and a bit hard on the eyes. If you have any questions feel free to send me a PM. Best of luck!
120,616 Literary Works • 651,092 Reviews
Points: 1040
Reviews: 3
Donate