Hold On a Second, Just Wait, I Need To Finish Confirming My Insanity With My Lost, Scarred, Doomed, Broken Mind0 Reviews
random one shot. frerard
I hate being alone. It brings out the insane side of me. The side that wants to smash eerything in sight, the side that wnats to kill. I probably sound like some old psycho, right? Trust me, I'm not. I'm just a weak but stubborn boy with fucked up thoughts. And it's nights when I'm alone that really show just how fucked up I've become. I'm nothing to myself. I mean nothing. I don't have to. I'm fourteen years old and I still sleep with a teddy bear. He's green, with blue ears and a soft white muzzle. His name is Mr. Snuggles. He fights away all my bad thoughts, and keeps me company. As sad as it sounds, he's my best friend.
I guess I'm losing touch with reality. I only want to grasp it with both of my hands, even if it means taking a giant leap of faith. I sit in my house all day watching horror movies. I'm supposed to be homeschooled, but my parents are never home and my brother lives with my aunt. Sometimes, I wish I could end it all, just stop thinking, stop waking up, just escape this hell hole. But I can't, because if I do, someone else dies too. The only real thing about my life, the only thing considered normal... well half normal. My boyfriend, Frank. He's the best thing that could have ever happened, and even now, when I stop and think without losing all control, I ask myself what I've done to deserve soemone so special. I've done nothing. I've just sat on my ass and cried. That's what it's like for me.
I recall, back when I was younger, about the age of ten, I was asked to paint my thoughts. I was handed an expensive canvas and told to paint exactly what was in my mind. All my feelings went down on that page. It was black, representing sorrow, loss and death with a few green and blue lines streaking through it, representing Mr. Snuggles. But in the middle of the page, written in bright red paint, styled to look like blood, were the words 'lost', 'alone' and 'murder', which scared people. It scared people so much. My mother wanted to snet me away to a mental home, but my father disagreed, telling her it would make matters worse. Instead, they sent my brother off to my aunt's house so they could 'concerntrate' on me. Of course, they didn't. They neglected me. My mother beat me and laughed at me. My father became suicidal. He couldn't cope with the mess I had apparently caused, and the pair left. Literally, they just left me. I was twelve. I had no idea how to cook. I could pay the bills. I was utterly clueless. In the end, my parents paid the bills for me, and they send me mony every few weeks.
I really hate my life though. I can't cope. I guess that's what Frank is there for, to make sure I'm okay. Hobestly, he has it harder than most boyfriends. He has to look after me too. He's only a year older than me, and has his own life to worry about, but it doesn't seem to bother him. When ever I try to convince him to leave and go back to his own house, he simply tells me he'd rather make sure I was okay than go home and when he does leave, I freak out. I smash objects in my house and throw myself around the room. All I want to know is wants wrong with me. All I want is a cure, some treatment, some fucking help. I'll never get it though.
I have some very hod memories of nice things that have happened, like the passionate night I spent with Frank. It muted my 'disorder' and I was okay for two weeks, until we got in a fight, which made me ten times worse. The most we've done since then is kiss and even then it doesn't feel the same. He's not into it anymore. I know he thinks he caused it. It's not his fault. It's mine. I should have died two years ago, when I attempted suicide. If I had died then, I wouldn't have met Frank. And if I had died, I wouldn't be having this issue.
I want to die,
But I know how Frank feels about it,
Maybe if we broke up I could take the opportunity to end it,
To mute my terrible life once and for all,
But I can't,
Because I know Frank and I will never break up,
And I've just realised something;
We're both fucked up.