A/N- This was something that just came to me, it's short and non specific. You can decide who you think it's about and why, I have my own thoughts. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment!

-I own nothing from Glee!

He's lying on his back on the bed, staring but unseeing at the ceiling. Everything feels heavy. It's cliché to say that there's a deep ache in his chest, that it feels like he can't breath, but things are cliché for a reason.

He feels like the light in the world is gone, that there is nothing but white noise surrounding him like the static from a TV. And the pain; the pain feels like he's being ripped from the inside out.

He could cry; maybe he should be crying, maybe then he wouldn't feel like his head and his chest were stinging from oncoming tears. He wants to cry even, but really what is there to cry about? Nothing has happened. Nothing new, anyway. Sometimes he just feels this deep-seated hurt that's been created by his mind and by nothing more.

The room around him is casted in darkening shadows as the sun sets on another day. He's been here, lying like this, unmoving, for days, weeks maybe; there's no reason for him to know.

Sometimes it feels like he should just put an end to this all. Wouldn't that be easier for him? For all the people who have to show up every few days to make sure that he's still here, that he's eaten or showered or moved from this bed. He's useless at this point, a dead weight collecting dust in the corner.

His medicine still sits on his nightstand, untouched. He remembers when the doctor gave it to him, promised that it could help, along with talking. He hasn't touched it since it was placed there. He doesn't know if he wants it to help, if he wants to stop hurting. Why should he? He causes a pain so he gets a pain; an eye for an eye. Isn't that what karma is for? To punish those who harm.

There was a time when he might've fought for himself. A time when it would've seemed like he could go on with who he's become, and that the world needed him even if he wasn't whole. There was probably even a time when he liked himself enough that he wouldn't have fallen into this depressive slump. When he would look at the prospect of life with more desire than the prospect of death.

Maybe there comes a point when it's just too late. When you've hurt too many people to believe that you yourself are worth saving. Maybe now he's teetering on that edge, trying to find the sign that will tell him which way to fall. And he will fall.