"Does this really make you happy? Why'd you give up?"<br/><br/>Mica frowned. You know, everyone had their ups and downs, but what the fuck. Hearing your dead brother scold your life choices, well that was something else all together. He slipped on his noise-cancelling head phones and turned on some tunes, trying to sink himself further into the distractions of the online world. It's what he always did when he was feeling low. There was a point in his life where his days were more bad than good, but the video games, they transported him to a new place. A place where there were no dead brothers or broken dads, where he wasn't serving food and barely scraping by. In these worlds, people needed him. He did cool things,<span style="font-style: italic">important</span>things.<br/><br/>The computer screen started to flicker before his eyes. "...What." He tapped the monitor, and it started to go crazy. "No, no, no." He stood up, quickly hitting keys, fussing with cords, and then the tower sparked and practically exploded. He yelped, jerking back and tripping over his headphone's cord, then on his chair. He fell hard on his ass.<br/><br/>"Does this really make you happy? Why'd you give up?"<br/><br/><br/>He blinked, his chest heaving. The screen.... the screen started working again. And the tower, it wasn't sparking anymore. He crawled forward, hastily feeling for damage. It was warm to his touch, but no fire. No sparks. He stared dumbly for a moment, then stood up, rubbing his head as he banged it on the desk.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Fuck.</span>" He paced across the polished marble floor. He paced all the way into the kitchen. He poured himself a healthy serving of pure vodka and he drank it on the spot. His eyes stung. He smacked his lips and tentatively walked back into the living. His computer was still whole, untouched, the screen still worked.<br/><br/>He rubbed the forming bump on his head, went back to the kitchen, grabbed the vodka and this time, some orange juice, and with a cup clenched between his teeth he walked back and took a seat in his chair. He juggled the bottles, picking the cup from his mouth and gingerly arranging them on the edge of the desk. His hands were shaking. He reached for his headphones, plugged them back in, and slipped them on.