FicWad

You must not fucking understand what its like to die inside. I wake up, only half-alive, and walk into the bathroom. Fat. Nobody would think that I had much more in mind then some punkrock song, but people don't look too close anymore. Brushing the enamel off of my teeth, I wonder how I'm going to make pay for this month's rent. I used to be a straight-A student; now I'm a whirlpool of disaster, choking on my own vomit every night I try to sleep.

You're meeting someone who is rotting behind a pretty face.

Stumbling into the hall, I try my best not to wake up an angry household, held together by my own means of making money. Selling coke, selling meth, selling me. Seventeen is too young to be wishing you were in the ground, right? Wrong. You're all wrong; you don't see shit. But tonight is going to change everything. Then we'll all see something, something really spectacular.

I looked at myself in the hallway mirror, a sudden disgust filling me up and chewing me all around. I couldn't bear this shit anymore, this constant battle raging in my head. Feed the boy who I hate senseless, shelter the boy who needs no home. When I was little, I used to throw up before I came home because I was so scared. Now, I can't stop. Something has broken inside of me, some sort of wire in my brain that gave me any sense of control.

Friends die like wildflowers as soon as you confess. There is no such thing as loyalty; no hand will hold you when the air gets thin, no body will take any bullet for you. Maybe a corpse would though. We'll see tonight. But there are things I've never told people, secrets I wish I could spill. Sometimes I like to write them down, and I wonder if anyone will read them. But when I go, you could take them – they're all stashed underneath my mattress, in a clear, plastic box with three small holes poked through. I used to keep bugs in there when I was a kid; now I keep my words – its all so similar; they're just maggots I've chosen to save. But everyone whose ever known even a piece of them has ran, and I don't blame them. I'd kill all of the bugs, if I was them. Put those goddamn insects out of their misery. Sorry, I'm out of my head right now, so I understand if things aren't making sense.

Swallow, stand, spit, breathe, cry, explode, collapse, repeat.

And repeat.

And repeat.

And repeat.

Grabbing a tee from the laundry room, I shimmied into my clothes and headed out of the door, making sure I couldn't even look towards the kitchen. God, if that fucking house wouldn't suffocate me soon, I didn't know what will. I stood outside, gasping for air. I'm being choked, but I'm too used to the lack of oxygen. The sun is bright and glares into my eyes, and I know I own the streets for now. The daytime was like freedom, the only thing tainting it being thoughts of night.