He sighed. Waking up was like a chore, walking around, smiling, talking, breathing... It was just exhausting. Another day of being alive while being tormented by the death. Another day of seeing his dead brother looking at him which such a disappointed look. He knew he was a disappointment. His father kept telling him that after he began to use drugs to suppress his powers.
With every disappointed look from his siblings, he began to give up. Maybe he was better off with the death. Where no one else could see him, could give him those looks. Of course that attempt failed which indirectly caused his brother’s death. The wrong brother died because of him. And now that same brother will give him the same looks while haunting the person who indirectly killed him.
He is tired, tired of it all. Giving up seems easier by the second but he can’t he promised he wouldn’t do that. Oh how he regrets that decision. Right now death seems like a vacation that he dying to go on. And yet here he stands. A junkie, a disappointment, a waste of space, a good for nothing... Was the promise really all that worth it to make if he could make the world even a small bit better by stepping out of it?