Blight Town

Why do I live here? This place is so decrepit a broken down. It’d be better if this place didn't exist at all. Just the name of the place shows they weren’t even trying to make it enjoyable here. I sit here all alone, no one to distract me, no one to save me from myself. Just my thoughts. All my emotions have vanished or gotten eaten up by that thing again. It wasn’t always so horrible to live here. Back when Happiness ran the command center of everything. The colors were so bright and vibrant. Bright rose red and deep nightshade purple. Those were my favorites. Now in times like this there is only gray and black everything. No more roses and no more nightshades. It all started when that thing first moved here. That day everything lost a little color. Eventually all the flowers started to wilt. My happiness, it tried to fend off this dark monster who called himself depression but nothing worked. Happiness even became violent to try and get him to go away and it did nothing but scar me in the process. Now it’s too late. Happiness is gone for good. She won’t ever come back. It killed her. Without her there’s nothing I can do. Happiness used to leave occasionally for maybe a month or two at a time. But I could survive those times, back then I knew it would be able to come back. Now all I have left are the memories of it. But most times those memories only hurt because I’m reminded that she’s gone now. Thinking back on it Happiness wasn’t always the same either. In the beginning she had this rainbow of hair colors and shiny green eyes. Then as time went on that image faded she went grey for a while and I don’t remember seeing happiness much. Once I saw her again she had deep purple hair this time. Instead of green, her eyes were now this beautiful ocean blue. But by then Depression had already moved in. I think my favorite memory of happiness is when she had half blonde, half blue hair. With blue eyes again but more like the sky than the ocean. None of that matters anymore; all of that’s in the past, this monster controls me completely now. Regulating anything you could imagine, how much I eat, how much I sleep, how much I drink. It dictates whether or not I should even feel happy anymore. Somehow he’s gained the ability to mimic all my old emotions, even Happiness herself. He can act like everything’s okay when it’s not in any way. What I hate more is when he’s in a really sadistic mood he cuts me. Over and over until there’s so much blood I could hardly breathe. Doesn’t even use a knife or a razor. He uses the things that hurt worse like my own fingernails or a thick piece of metal from a mechanical pencil. It’s like there’s no way out. The door back to a happy world is sealed completely. The only key to unlock it I’ve found, is death.

A Happy Ending

            After all the times she’s hurt him, lied to him, gotten all of his hopes up in the last year and crushing his heart over and over without even dating him; Gwyndolin still loved her. He has given all a hopeless boy could to her and in actuality she never seemed to care. Nevertheless he still chased after her. After today, seeing her and breaking into tears immediately, he sits in his bed, wrapped up in his hoodie hiding himself and his scars from the world. Was asking for some girl, any girl to truly love him for once still too much? It was another one of those nights, laying there crying again trying his hardest not to cut himself. The adrenaline calmed the boy when he got like this. Just like the night before I sit and observe him. Trying to figure out why he acts this way. The average person would have given up on such a thoughtless bitch he fell in love with. Was it because he knew I was there? I’m just a voice in his head there’s no way I’m the cause of this. Whenever I try and tell Gwyndolin the truth that he’s just never going to be with her he just cries some more and complains about his “bad thoughts”. I consider myself the truth, the fact that this world he’s in won’t ever change. He sits to himself saying he has depression. I have never heard that word before. Is he referring to me? All my input about his unattractiveness or reminding him he’s alone? I’m only stating facts. “Wait Gwyndolin!” I yell at him even though I’m in his head. “Here’s a thought” I whisper, “You should just die. It’s such a simple solution. All your pain goes away. She can’t hurt you anymore if you’re dead its perfect!”

He thinks to himself “My depression is getting really bad. I shouldn’t listen to it. He’s lying. Wouldn’t people miss me?”

“But they wouldn’t Gwyn. You know that deep down I’m right. You are fucking worthless and no one will ever love such mess as yourself. You’re doing yourself and the world a favor. Think of how the girl feels, you always begging her to be with you all your annoying sweet texts, she won’t miss you. You pathetic bastard.” Am I wrong for making him want to kill himself? “Depression” as he calls me is only doing what’s best for him. “C’mon, just do it already. Get it over with, Take that knife and just cut your neck this time it won’t hurt for long. Don’t you want to make her pay for hurting you? For not loving you back, this is her fault, now you’ll never be happy as long as you’re living, you know the rules, and ‘No one really cares about you unless you’re pretty or dying’”. Gwyndolin picks up the knife, breathing one last time, He puts it to his throat. One quick movement of his forearm, the blood began to trickle down his chest and drip to the floor. He had finally finished his story. He died, happily ever after. 

The Fall

There he stood on the edge of the wall
He looks down and thinks "I want to fall"
What would lead this boy so far?
The pain and the words the created the scars?
Why would he want to die?
Was it that stupid bitch, and her fucking lies?
It began with those nights when he always stayed awake.
He had cried so much he did Nothing but shake.
The next night instead he cut.
Anything to please that fucking slut.
He waits and begins to cut some more.
He screams: "Is this what you wanted you goddamn whore?!"
The blood showed through his shirt.
But emotionally he was so much more hurt.
The things she did...made him so pissed.
He was left with no choice but to slit his wrists.
Still on the edge,  lead there by love.
Maybe if he jumped he could become a dove.
Days pass people still live their lives.
Noone even knows the name of that guy.
Just one nice word could've been used to prevent.
Those cold dark stains of his blood left on the cement.

Hurt

Oh, hello.  I see you're awake. "Where am I?" That's not important you won't be going home.  Stop fucking screaming.  I take the screwdrivers and Stab his hand nailing it to the arm of the chair.  Oops looks like your fingernails are still on. Let me fix that. I take the pliers and slowly tear off each nail. Each one slower than the last. Oh that hurts? Oh well. I'm not stopping your pain. Why? Because no one bothered to stop mine! All they do is sit and pretend they Care and when you finally go crazy and wonder why like it hasn't been boiling over for a long time! Now, back to the skin on your back. I think your spine is a lot prettier when you show it dear. I take the cheese Grater and peel away at him until he is almost no more. Oh you're just crying now?  Boo hoo. You still don't know why you're here? You don't remember?  That's exactly fucking why you're here because you didn't care enough to remember!  Hmm your knees look awful dry. Let me sand them away for you. Now that you're nearly drowning in your own blood,  much like I was.I believe it's finally time.  I take out a surgical knife.  I slowly carve a tear in his cheek. Permanently crying now. Oh look I gave myself one long ago. Back when sorry still meant something from you. Now do you see?  Do you remember yet? Do you!  You don't. That's too bad. I guess our game is over now farewell. I take the scalpal and drive it through his eye out the other side of his skull. Emotions are all fun and games to people. Until someone creates a serial killer.

Walking

I walk along. I see them. I keeping walk for them.my feet are bleeding I can't walk anymore I can't.  But I need to for them. Wait... I look back. They've barely taken any steps. I've walked Miles and it's like they haven't moved at all. Why? I ask. No answer.  I brush it off and keep walking.  hours later I see they still haven't moved it's like they don't care but I do. I just keep walking and walking all for them. Still nothing they still won't fucking move. I've lost so much blood my feet are worn to the bone. I guess I'll just walk until I die. Alone.

A Shattered World

This world... Lately I've looked at it so differently.  Any sharp objects,  they catch my attention more, I don’t trust myself picking them up. Any thin seams, even a small ray of sunlight looks like a cut to me. It just reminds me of the blood. A crack in the door reminds me of  the darkness in my wounds. The words "Kill Yourself " catch me off guard a lot more often now. In fact anytime it's said to me regardless of the context my stomach drops and I hold my arm. I often hear "Don't kill yourself " due to clumsiness and tripping on things but only if they knew... I look in a mirror I don't see myself anymore.  I see a something rather than someone,  but it's not like anyone else but her sees me as a person anyway. I don’t even see something just my scars. Standing alone focusing on nothing else but the dried blood splatter.  I started to see others differently too. I pay more attention to those who wear hoodies on the hottest days. With extreme bags under their eyes. I even start to examine anyone's wrists to see... If they look just like mine. But above this Shattered World I've submerged myself in there's a better place.  I've only been there once since summer began. Because she's the only way there. She's everything to me. She reminds me that I'm not just a bag of pain with scars no one wants to deal with. She reminds me that I'm just me, a dork that can make her laugh, that means a lot to her. Yet I can never remember that on my own. I need her. In every way there is to need someone.  I need her soon. I don’t want to be submerged any farther,  eventually she won't be able to pull me out any more.  She'll be stuck watching me drown.

Alone

Loneliness, it can come in 2 forms. One much worse than the other. You can be Alone. Like I am now,  no one around  physically.  Then you can feel alone. Which is far worse and what I'm forced to live with. Honestly if someone were to ask me what my biggest fear was, I'd say Loneliness without hesitation.  I hate it. No one seems to care.  And if they do they seemed annoyed like they're just putting up with me. The only person that truly cares to help me I can't fucking stand. Loneliness fucking sucks. Loneliness is the pain that comes after my cry for help for someone to beg that they need me and the harsh realization that I'm not needed. That I need them more than they'll ever need me. So what's the point being around,  when no one seems to want you?  It's hope. That small tiny sliver left that's buried under the scars the pain and the sadness.  Still keeps me here waiting.  And begging and blindly believing that somehow this fucked up illusion filled with  nothing but me lying to myself really exists. That they aren't lies and it's truly there. And maybe. Just maybe, in the end... It will...  Become reality.

Painting With Bloody Emotions

Oh how Lovely! My walls are red once again thanks to your brains being sprayed all over again. Oh well. What can we do? Reality is a horrid place I hate to visit, where dreams are dead, and the ones who you think love you most don't give a damn about you. Where what you want is as close as possible and yet the farthest thing from ever being yours. I can't fucking stand reality. Imagination is a better place. Where murder is deserved by those I see fit. Where all anger can just be relieved all with torture. For example there is no greater joy than taking that razor and instead of hurting myself, pressing it into his eye over and over and over! Oh, the audacity! I could even use this knife as my paintbrush if I wanted, and his body my everlasting canvas, carving things left and right. Ooooh! Yay, I drew the horizon. Now let's make a tree, cut here and here don't forget to dig in really deep. "Stop this you monster!
Oh, I'm sorry sir does that hurt? You should have considered this before you hurt the wrong person! Pathetic, dying on the floor begging for life, where was this part of you when I was begging?! Huh! Answer me that!
"I'm Sorry..."
Fuck your sorry! You should've said that back when it meant something. Now back to drawing, I need to make one final mark, I think this piece of art just needs this knife directly into your skull! DIE! *Stab* DIE! *Stab*  Finally!  Geez I've been waiting for my chance to kill that useless fuck. Wasn't that so much fun Making the room all nice and bloody creating a painting. AHHH that felt amazing! See what imagination can do?

Forgotten

♪ I... hurt my...self today. To see if I still feel.... I.... focus on the pain.... the only thing that's real. I cut a hole... The old familiar sting... Everyone I know, goes away.... in the end. ♪

Waiting will be the death of me. Never giving up on someone for so long scars the soul too much. But it's okay. It won't matter. My existence doesn't seem to make any vast differences. Everyone could still live on. The world will rotate and time will pass regardless of if I breathe. That'd be one less person for the world to support. But I guess I can't leave this world just yet. I still have a lot of time to waste, trying to counteract the inevitable out of my own greed. Although greed isn't always bad. Everyone wants something they don't have. Just depends on what or who that is that makes greed good or evil. My eyes seem to grow colder every time I look into the mirror. Wrists get redder with every blink. Razor red to be exact. I don't exist. I can't. This can't be real, I can't be real. I have no effect on anything or anyone no matter what I do.
I guess this is where I dissappear.

Nightmare

A nightmare is not merely  something you can only have. It is an essence and being. More like something you are than an occurrence.  Nightmares take over.
Suddenly the boy is in the school hallway he sees her with someone that isn't him. He can tell they are too friendly. He then proceeds to breakdown, cry, scream as loud and as quiet all at once. Then he stops. His mind is empty but his hand is not. It holds a knife. He looks up, the knife is no longer in hand but in front of him stuck in that smug asshole's forehead. He blinks. The guy is gone but now she is there tied in darkness. He ponders about the fact of why it was that guy and not him, either way he's dead now so it's not like it matters. He sits and stared at her as she cries and tries to apologize for hurting the boy. It was too late. He juggles the knife in his hands taunting her. She begs him to stop, but he simply runs the knife across his chest writing LATE in cursive. The knife is now pressed against her chin. "Oh what a shame a face so pretty can no longer exist, perhaps if it had been mine first it may have lasted a bit longer" he exclaims. He raises the knife as high as possible and slams it into the table cutting her hair in the process. "Oh sorry did i scare you?! I just can't bring myself to torture something so beautiful. That is.... with a knife anyway." He pulls out a classic revolver.  Puts it right against her skull, "Any last words dear?" She does nothing but continues to sob. "Since you waste your time crying I'll share MY last words with you instead, You are so lucky that I'm in love with you." He pulls the trigger, the bullet goes through his head killing him. She is left there in the dark alone wondering why he went through all that trouble to kill himself and not her. If the boy were to kill her he would be lonelier than he was before. Love is one of the worst nightmares to have.