A Cost of Being Alone

Michael Clifford wasn’t a normal teenager , I mean he was normal he has two eyes , a mouth , ten fingers , ten toes and all the other normal things , It’s just that he didn’t feel normal. Who could blame him really he hadn’t had the best start to life, better than others yes but not the best. He was an only child, born out of wedlock to his two parents, both of them loved him very much, or so they said, and he supposed they did really. For the first nine years of his life Michael’s Mum worked hard to provide for their family while his Dad sat around the house watching crappy day-time TV. Okay so that wasn’t so strange, it was actually pretty normal but it was after that when things started to change. He was ten when he started to notice it and he didn’t know how he hadn’t saw it before but now that he had he couldn’t shake the thought from his young mind. When was the last time he had seen his dad sober, or without some sort of alcoholic drink in his hand? And the more he thought about it the more it scared him.
You could say that was the first time he noticed something wasn’t quite right , the second time he noticed something it was just past 2am and Michael had awoke from his sleep , confused as to what exactly had woken him up , and then he heard it. The muffled sound of his parents shouting from the next room, and it was getting louder and more violent. He resorted to curling up under his covers and weighting until they stopped. They eventually did, twenty minutes later, a loud slam of the door signifying the end of it. If only the end had actually meant the end, unfortunately his Dad was back less than twelve hours later. That’s the thing Michael hated the most, He never left, and he always came back no matter how clear it was to him that he wasn’t wanted in the house anymore. It was an endless cycle that continued well into Michael’s teenage years. No wonder he was so fucked up.
And fucked up he was, at least in his own opinion anyway. Calum and Ashton always tried to convince him otherwise but he knows the truth. He was a sixteen year old boy who spent most of his time caught in a state of irrational and immense panic, obsessing over bands on the internet, knee deep in Tumblr or drowning in a sea of misery with a blade in his skin. It’s not like he was proud of those habits but they were what they were, it wasn’t going to change anything. What was the point in trying anyway if he had it his way he wouldn’t be alive much longer.
It was late on a Friday night and as usual instead of being out and having any sort of social life Michael was at home curled up in the foetal passion on his bed, a packet of maltsters and his laptop lay in front of him as he lazily scowled through his Tumblr dashboard. He had been laying like this for ages , his finger constantly pressed on the down bar scowling through thousands of posts. Occasionally he would stop to reblog the odd quote, gif or morbidly depressing black and white picture on a bleeding wrist. It’s not like he had anything better to do any. He yawned tiredly as he checked the time 3.25am. He sighed and turned back to the screen and reblogged some more pictures of Jack Barakat , Because everyone’s blog needed more of the Lebanese princess in it. He managed to stay that way for another two hours before he decided that yes maybe he did need to sleep. And he was just about to turn off the laptop when he noticed the little red one above his ask box. This was basically a foreign concept to Michael, who despite the large amount of hours he has spent on tumblr he has never received an ask.
Shocking I know.
He was only slightly hesitant as he dragged his cursor up to the box and clicked down.
…
Anon says:
Hi,
I hope this isn’t weird but I’ve been stalking your blog for a while and you seem pretty cool so I thought I’d say hey. XD

Michael Smiles at the innocence of the anon and quickly types out a reply.

MyCliffacondaDoes says:
Hey man or women, Its cool . I’m not cool but I appreciate the compliment random anon 

He sighs at his awkwardness but hits send anyway. Assuming that his natural abilities in social awkwardness would have scared him away. However a few minutes later he was magically proven wrong when a new message came up.
Anon says:
Oh right, sorry about the Anon thing but my blog is really embarrassing, Its basically me worshipping the god that is Pete Wentz. My Names Luke. What’s a cliffaconda if you don’t mind me asking?
Michael actually physically blushes at the thought of explaining his name .

MyCliffacondaDoes says :
Well Luke, My name is Michael Clifford and well a Cliffaconda is, Well a Cliffaconda is basically…it’s my dick. My Tumblr is named after my dick.

Anon says:
OMG, That’s Amazing you are a genius Michael.

MyCliffacondaDoes says:
I’m really not, I’m actually kind dumb.
Anon says:
No! I’m sure you aren’t dumb. Don’t put yourself down Michael. I’ve seen your blog and I know I hardly even know you and I have no right to say this but I’m sure whatever’s getting you down will stop soon so cheer up and stay strong okay?
…
Michael had been staring at the message for a good five minutes , completely unsure of how to reply, he didn’t want to get the poor boy down ,he was only trying to be nice after all but Michael didn’t deserve nice.
MyCliffacondaDoes says:
It’s not that easy Luke.

After he hit send Michael closed his laptop and put it away, not wanting to waste his time waiting for a reply, he wasn’t even sure he’d even get one after being so rude to him. Deciding to ignore the fact he’d just lost a potential friend he slip off his long sleeved shirt , cringing slightly at the dried blood on the sleeve from earlier. However he decided to ignore it for now and climbs under his covers and closing his eyes praying to the gods he didn’t believe in that sleep would be easy on him tonight.