So it's late at night, and I was just listening to lots of different versions of my favourite song for the first time, and wrote this, with Thom's mood changing over the night with each new song.
Thom has a very strange night.
Thom woke, rolled off of his bed and ran to crouch in a corner, he covered his head with both hands and was squeezing as hard as he could, trying to push out the feeling in his head, everything around him looked malformed and out of place, his head felt like it was trying to crush him from the inside.
His door was locked, he was glad, he didn't want anyone coming in and seeing him like this, no one was allowed to see this.
They were probably banging on the door now, but he couldn't hear, his head was pounding and the world was blocked out, all of his brains effort going into stopping the feeling sending him insane.
With every second he knew he knew he was loosing against what it was he was trying to fight.
He felt suddenly aware of everything around him, everything about his room scared him, he knew he had to get out. He went to the window, opened it and climbed down to the ground in the night, walking quickly along the street. The street lamps confusing his eyes.
As he walked further into the night he felt calmer and calmer. A new feeling was coming. He felt completely at ease, happy even. He no longer even had the thoughts of what just happened on his mind, he was just fascinated by all the lights around him. He danced and swung around the lamp posts, smiling and breathing slowly, occasionally giving a happy sigh. He had no sense of where he was, he was just intuitively making his way through the night.
He began to get bored of spinning around, and rested on a bench with a heavy sigh. He was next to a road with lots of cars driving by. The sound of the cars and the cool night breeze on his face felt so soothing. The motion of the cars too fast for his eyes to catch, he just watched the blurs flow past as his head drifted to the side. He lay on his left side, scrunched up into himself, the sounds, smells and sights of the night melding into one feeling that made him just forget the world, all that was left was him and the night that was carrying him in flight, comforting him in the cold.
He dreamt of rising up on a platform, chaos going on all around the world, nothing that anyone else noticed, only that he could see from up so high. He orchestrated the chaos, like he was conducting a symphony, people shouting and screaming and crying, people dying and fighting and fleeing. Then he rose above it, through the crimson storm clouds, up into a dusky blue sky with clouds below him. Nothing in the skies but him, completely at peace, storm clouds blowing beneath and an endless sky above.
When he woke on the bench it was still night. Somebody was standing over him, probably asking if he was allright. He got up, his muscles were aching, he felt so pathetic in front of this person, falling asleep on a bench in the middle of nowhere, his eyes and skin were tired. He got up, careful not to face the person talking to him, then walked along the path, weary and regretful.
He slumped along the pathway across to a harbour, he looked in the water, it was so murky and disgusting, it'd probably be fitting to drown in it, he didn't deserve to die though, that was for people who'd lived their lives, people who'd finished with themselves, he was too pathetic to die.
He needed to get up high, he needed to see the town from the hill.
He walked through the town to the huge hill on the other side. The street lamps hurt his eyes. He began the slow walk up the hill. Every step wearied him more, he knew he had to get to the top though, there was something up there. He waded through stray branches and over rocks and leaves and twigs. He finally got to the top and sat down on a rock where he could see the whole of the town, with the sea past that.
The sun would be rising soon. He dearly wanted to see it. As it broke over the horizon of the sea, he felt the glow embrace him. He didn't care that he had mud on his shoes and under his fingers, or that he had leaves caught in his clothes, or how he had ended up where he was. The sunrise was so enchanting, it glimmered off the waves of the sea, too small to sea, but on such a large scale he could see it shimmering like a sea of mirrors in the distance. He felt the light glow off of the trees and grass onto him, he could smell the forest as it was lit up, it filled him up. The feelings all swirling inside his senses, he felt them lifting him up into the sky. In one climactic moment he felt the entire world in his head, all beautiful and part of him. He lay on the grass now, feeling the dew drops on his skin and in his hair. It was so serene and perfect.
He got up after a while of laying in ecstasy with his mind overcome. Everything had left him now, he was happy now though. He felt like dancing and skipping again. He looked around for a path, found it, gave a quick and ready sort of breath outwards the began the walk home. He smiled and waved at the cyclist that went past and the old couple that walked by. He didn't care about what had happened, he couldn't change this odd night now, besides, it was a fun night, it would make a good story, so he just smiled and continued on. He looked up at the sun in the sky and laughed.
Half skipping down the path down the hill he was thinking about the day ahead of him. He would be meeting his friends again today, they were such nice friends, he didn't see them much any more, they were all so lazy none of them called him, he always had to invite himself, he didn't care though, he didn't mind putting in effort to see those lovely people again. He would have to get some things from the shop, they were low on food at home, strapped for cash as usual, oh well, he could get by pretty well. Life was really great at the moment, he probably had one of the most unusual and fun nights he's had in a while, and had such a wonderous day ahead of him full of interesting people and great food.
He walked off down the hill with the sunlight falling down on him, smiling like a monkey, hands in his pockets, whistling a tune that had been in his head all night.