I woke up with my mouth dry, tongue stuck to the roof of it. The fan above me spun slow, like it was tired too.
The phone was under my pillow. I pulled it out. The screen was warm from being trapped beneath my head.
12:42 PM.
Missed calls: 0.
Messages: Just spam.
I rolled onto my back and let the phone fall on my chest.
It stayed there for a while.
Eventually, I forced myself up. The floor was cold. The house was too quiet again. I scratched my head, yawned, and made my way to the kitchen. Still some of the noodles left in the pot from last night. I didn't bother heating them. Ate them straight, half-cold. The sauce had thickened into a paste.
It tasted like nothing.
I sat on the floor, legs crossed, back against the fridge.
The silence rang in my ears.
Ding.
A notification.
I unlocked the phone.
It was the college group chat.
"When are you coming, bro? It's been like 2 weeks."
"Yeah fr. Everyone's here except you."
"Did you even pass lmao?"
"He probably failed and didn't tell anyone 💀"
"Bro just ghosted."
"What's the point of keeping him here anyway if he never talks?"
You have been removed from the group.
That's it.
No goodbye. No "you good, man?" Not even a meme.
Just silence.
I sat there for a full minute, staring at the empty chat.
Then I locked the phone. Let it drop to the floor with a soft thud.
My eyes stayed open, but my mind went somewhere else.
Blake. Emily. Liam. Everyone had a place.
Me?
Rotting here.
In this half-lit house.
I stood up. My knees cracked. I looked around the room like I was seeing it for the first time.
Plates in the sink.
Dust on the windows.
Old clothes on the chair.
I picked up one of the shirts. Smelled it. It reeked of sweat and stale fabric.
Dropped it back down.
I sat on the bed and opened my phone again. No idea why.
Instinct, maybe.
I scrolled.
Video 1:
Some guy dancing shirtless with abs, holding up a Rolex.
> "If you're not making money in 2025, you're doing something wrong."
Video 2:
A gym couple laughing while making protein pancakes.
> "Couples who lift together stay together 💪💞"
Video 3:
Another "how I went from broke to rich in 90 days" scam with background music that tried too hard.
Video 4:
A girl in a red dress, sitting on a bed.
> "If he can't afford this, don't text him back ladies 💋✨"
Video 5:
Someone making grilled cheese. The cheese pulled perfectly.
I scrolled mindlessly for another hour.
Then shut the phone.
I didn't feel angry. Or sad.
I just felt… used up.
Like there was nothing in me to react with.
I opened my game again.
Queued a match. Lost again.
Didn't even feel the loss. It was automatic now. Like breathing.
At some point, I made toast.
Burned it.
Ate it anyway.
I don't know when, but I ended up on Emily's profile again.
She'd changed her bio.
> "Taken 💙 | Forever my Blake 🖤"
I closed it before I could see the new pictures.
Or maybe I didn't.
I don't remember.
It's all the same now.
Same screen. Same silence. Same sinking.
By 8 PM, I was under the blanket.
Just lying there.
Not even tired.
Not even alive.
Just there.
Existing.
Rotting.
And then—another reel.
But this one was different.
No music.
Just a guy sitting alone in his room, staring at the camera.
> "You know what rock bottom looks like?" he said.
> "It's not some movie moment where you cry and get up. It's this. Days passing. People forgetting you. You forgetting yourself."
> "And one day you realize... if you don't do something—anything—then no one will."
He paused. Looked straight into the lens.
> "If you're still breathing... you're not done."
That hit.
I watched it twice.
Then a third time.
I saved it.
I turned the phone off and stared at the ceiling in the dark.
Tomorrow, I told myself.
Tomorrow I'll clean.
Tomorrow I'll do five push-ups.
Tomorrow I'll shower.
Tomorrow I'll write something.
...
I woke up again. This time at 11:17 AM.
I didn't check the phone right away. I just laid there, eyes barely open, blinking slowly at the ceiling.
The fan above spun quietly. The same lazy rhythm.
I thought, Maybe today.
I sat up and immediately slumped again. My lower back ached. Probably from lying down too long. Or maybe just from existing.
I grabbed my phone. Unlocked it.
The same pattern.
Scroll. Tap. Double tap. Scroll.
Reel 1:
A girl lip-syncing to some sped-up audio. I didn't even hear the words. Just noticed the tight crop and the curve of her smile.
Reel 2:
Some influencer yelling at the camera.
> "You think the world cares? Wake up, loser."
I scrolled past it.
Eventually, I sat at my desk.
The chair creaked as I leaned back. The cracked faux-leather pressed cold against my back.
I turned to the mirror beside my desk. Just a small one, stuck to the wardrobe with blue-tack.
I stared at it.
My face looked swollen. My eyes were puffy—bags dark like bruises. My hair was a mess, one side flat from the pillow. There was a small pimple under my jaw.
My gaze moved down. Chin. Neck. The folds on my stomach visible even through the shirt.
Fat. Soft. Weak.
I hated it.
The mirror didn't lie.
I looked like someone who had given up.
I pulled my chair closer to the table.
Opened my laptop.
I didn't want to scroll again.
I clicked open the chess app. It had been a while.
My rating? 654.
Down from 700.
I queued a quick 10-minute rapid match.
The board appeared. I played White.
1. e4
King's Pawn Opening. Simple. Clean.
My opponent replied 1...c5 — Sicilian Defense.
Okay. I responded 2. Nf3, going for basics.
He pushed 2...d6. Fine.
I continued 3. d4, hoping to control the center.
He captured 3...cxd4, I recaptured with the knight.
So far, okay.
Then came the blunders.
I moved my bishop early, hung a pawn.
He castled fast, gained tempo.
I forgot my king safety, brought the queen too early.
A knight fork.
Boom—lost the rook.
My palms were sweating. Not even halfway through, and I was losing badly.
By move 25, it was over.
Checkmate.
+8 for him.
-9 for me.
I sighed.
I exited the game. Closed the tab.
Laid back again.
Maybe I should work out, I thought.
I put the phone down. Stood up.
Dropped into push-up position.
One... two... three...
Fourth one was shaky. Fifth one felt like my elbows would snap.
I fell on the floor and just stayed there.
Pulled myself up using the table's edge and tried a pull-up on the bar in the doorframe.
Nothing. Not even half.
I just hung there. Arms trembling.
Then I dropped. Back on the floor.
Breathing heavy like I'd run a marathon.
I could've studied after that. I should've.
I opened the book. Flipped one page. Then closed it.
"I'll start properly tomorrow."
"I need energy first."
"My head's not in it right now."
And like always… I drifted again.
Phone back in hand.
Browser open.
Tabs.
One link after another.
Watched some Japanese porn
Masturbated to the third video in my pants .
Thirty minutes later, shame and silence.
I turned my head to the side. The laptop still open on the table.
The chess board still showing the last position.
My king surrounded. Helpless.
Just like me.