Post by Sirius on May 20, 2014 23:03:34 GMT
****WARNING: Depressing and slightly disturbing. Don't read if your all happy sauce right niao****
The boy sighed heavily from his parted lips, his hot breath warming his hands in the freezing cold. He sat upon the ground with his legs crossed, his arms laying gently on his thighs. He was sitting in the lush green grass under the clear night sky, the stars twinkling down on him. Other than the occasional scurrying of a small rodent or a car passing by as it’s headlights shined on the boy’s face, it was a solitary, secluded, and quiet area within his small town. You could even say it was peaceful.
But on this night, it was not even close to the word peaceful. He adorned his red and black headphones dug into his ears, blasting music in his eardrums as his gaze turned upwards into the night sky at the stars. There was always a rumor that every star represented an angel, looking down upon you with a smile. The boy thought it to be a myth, but on this particular night he had hoped it was true. He hoped it was the imminent because he knew for a fact, that he was not going to be on this earth much longer, and he hoped that he would become one of those stars in the beautiful night sky.
He sighed. He would raise his hand up and wipe the tears from his eyes. That is, if he had any tears coming down. He never teared up. Ever. He always just pent up everything he had felt inside and buried it deep into the depths of soul, never to be seen or heard from again by anybody other than himself on those cold, lonely nights in the darkness. Unless someone unknowingly brings it back, when in which he lashes out violently. He never let anyone know his feelings.
But on this particular day, it all came crashing down, for one reason or another. As the blowing wind rolled the empty white pill bottles scattered across the lush green grass around his person, and blood trickled down his wrists from the now blood soaked razor blade, The boy began to remember all of the various times he was rejected for absolutely no reason. Maybe it was because he wasn’t popular enough, maybe it was because he simply wasn’t good enough. He could believe both scenarios, in his case. His mind went back to the times where he was left alone in the dust. Where none of his so called “friends” seemed to be around for him to talk to. Meanwhile, he was always there for them, no matter the cause or reason. Where when the demons that resided within his troubled head were beginning to get to him and his sanity was being slowly hacked away little by little, it was increased by the fact that every time he looked to his phone there was no messages, no calls. When he looked out the window, there was nobody waiting for him to come out. When he came to school, nobody would even say hello. There was no acknowledgement of his existence.
He went back to his over emotional nature. He was so fucking sensitive, the slightest thing could set him off the deep end with no apparent reason. But it would almost seem that people still mess with him more, knowing this. The girls, so beautiful, that he gets emotionally attached to. They would only be with him out of pity, giving him what he wanted for a few weeks time. Soon, they dump him to the curb like he once more, only to be sewed and stitched up for the hundredth time. He was surprised his heart had not just crumbled to pieces yet
The beat of the music rang against his eardrums, almost egging him on as he brought the razor blade down on a uninjured, clean part of his wrist. A cut free, smooth part of his tan skin. He pressed the razor against it and sliced, blood spurting from the new wound as it gushed blood, mingling with the blood from the other wounds.
The reason he was most upset, most disappointed, so ready to destroy himself, wasn’t any of the reasons he stated above. Not the rejection, his overemotional nature, or not even nobody caring. It was the fact that he had turned into this. He used to be so outgoing, such a free spirit in his own right. But the depths of hell grabbed his ankles and heaved, pulling him down into a depressing spiral that never seemed to end. The demons in his head had eventually crippled his sanity, and nobody’s intervention made it worse for him. Nobody cared, that’s what it was. Yes, he convinced himself of that fact. Nobody cared, nor would they ever.
As the demons swirled around him, he began to feel the urge to end it tonight. Right here, right now. Tonight, under the night sky. He knew nobody would even care about his essential nonexistence. He knew if he ended it all right now, nobody would even know for the longest time, because none of his “friends” would even care to ask. The demons in his mind kept screaming at him to do it within his injured mind, that nobody would ever give two shits and that he should end it all while people still at least acted like they cared about him. They said that his life was never going anywhere and it was time. Time to end it all. Tonight.
The young man, probably only 16 upon further examination, looked down at his hands. A full pill bottle in one hand, one bottle away from over dose, and a blood soaked razor blade in the other. His once energetic brown eyes now seemed tired. Destroyed. Like he was tired of the trials of life. He blew the brown bangs of his long hairout of his face as he reached in his pocket and checked his phone. He immediately went to his messages.
No New Messages.
He sighed and looked down, staring at the screen showing no hope. For the first time in years, he found a tear rolling down his cheek, onto his lips, the salty taste rolling onto his tongue, making a small, almost unidentifiable streak on his face. As he began to feel himself losing the grip on his last shred of sanity, He looked at his phone again, hoping to god, or whatever being was up there right now, he was only hallucinating. He needed somebody right now, of all times. Someone to care that he had been out of site for days. But it seemed like nobody had even noticed he was gone. He hoped, now of all times, that someone did.
No New Messages.
Out of pure anger and depression intertwined with each other in a dangerous mix, built up for the recent few years of his life, he grabbed the phone, wrapping his hand around it tightly. He cocked back his arm before flinging it, the phone slipping from his fingertips. His throw went a good 20 feet, into a nearby tree, where the cell phone surprisingly didn’t break, only bounced and fell to the ground in front of the tree. He stared at it, before looking back down at his hands.
He uncapped the pill bottle as more tears rolled down his face. They were beginning to pour down his face. He threw all the pills down his throat at once, with no water to wash it down. He hoped that maybe the choking would end it quicker than the pills themselves, but alas, it didn’t. Soon, one by one the pills fell down his throat. As all of the pills went into his stomach at once, he realized fully that this was it. This grass, under these beautiful stars on a beautiful winter night, this would be his resting place.
As the beat of the music stopped, and his head phones fell out, the young boy placed the cold metal onto his wrists again.
And again, he cut, as his eyes began to droop.